How to Be a Writer - Part I (Tools of the Trade)

As writers, we spend a lot of time dealing with mechanics. Punctuation, grammar, spelling, storytelling, plot, etc. We spend so much time learning the craft of being a writer, but no one ever really tells us how to be a writer. I get it, sure, if you don't have the tools, you're not going to get very far. But let's say, just for the sake of argument, that you've finished your MFA, you have a head full of ideas, and you're raring to go. So then what? I mean, writing a story is one thing, but how does one actually be a writer? What are the pitfalls of the writing lifestyle that people don't talk about? For the life of me, I don't think a single person ever said "hey, yes you can write, but do you know about...?" concerning the lifestyle of a writer? How do relationships work? What equipment do you need? Where do you write? How do you support yourself while you write? Do you have a day job? How long before a publisher offers me a suitcase full of cash and lewd promises of questionable morality?

I'm going to attempt to answer those questions. At least, I'll give you the insight that my experience has taught me. I don't pretend to be the end-all-be-all expert on all of this, but if you let me, I think maybe I can help. So let's start with Part I - What tools do you need to be a writer?

This is not going to be some esoteric discussion that ends with "all you need is imagination and gumption." Sure, those are nice, but let's start with the obvious: A computer. Laptop, desktop, iPad, Windows, Mac, Linux, it doesn't really matter what the specifics are. You just need some sort of word-processing apparatus that facilitates the recording of your story/novel/play. Before you get your shorts in a knot, let me explain. Nothing against the people who prefer to write longhand, but I have yet to meet or even see an editor or agent that accepts hand-written submissions, no matter how pretty the handwriting. I use a combination of my desktop (older 27" iMac), laptop (Macbook Air, provided by one of the universities for whom I work) and an iPad with a bluetooth keyboard, depending on where I am. None of that matters, however. Go ahead and draft on a yellow legal pad. But before you get ready to submit your stuff, you're going to have to enter it into the word processing software (or pay someone else to). Which brings me to my second point: Software.

Trust me... No one cares what you use. 

If you walk into a room full of writers and loudly ask what writing software they use, you will get as many different answers as there are people in the room. What's more, each one will extol the virtues of the software they use, and try to convince you that theirs is the OMGBEST for writing. And it's all bullshit. Look, every writing software out there does basically the same thing. Some help you keep track of plot points, others help you keep track of characters. Some are free, others are quite expensive. But the absolute truth of the matter is this: It doesn't matter. Whatever software you choose, choose it because you like it, not because some over-caffeinated lunatic told you to. Try a few. They all have trial versions, and chances are you'll find one you'll like. Me? I use good-old Microsoft Word for two reasons. First, every publisher I've come across requests manuscripts in one of three formats: .rtf (Rich Text Format), .doc (Word Document), or .docx (updated Word Document). Most word processors will have these formats listed under their "save as" menu, but I figure I'm just cutting out another step, and eliminating the chance for the formatting to be off. The second reason? Both the colleges I work for provide the Microsoft Office Suite for free to faculty and staff members, as well as students. So... Yeah. I use it because it's powerful, does what I want it to do, and I don't have to pay for it.

So what else do you need? Well, obviously, a place to write. We'll go more into the details of your writing space in a later episode of Strange Words, but suffice to say you need a place where you can sit with your thoughts and put your words down. It can be an empty room, the middle of your kitchen, or even a crowded coffee shop. What matters isn't the trappings themselves. What matters is that you are comfortable there. What matters is that the place is conducive to your creative process. Wherever that place is, don't let anyone tell you that it's wrong. A very dear friend of mine (who is incredibly well accomplished and published) writes at Starbucks. Trying to do such a thing would drive me insane, because I would keep getting distracted. But it works for him, and that's all that matters. So you need to find a place where you can gather your thoughts and lay them out.

I love office supplies...

Everything else is just window dressing and props. There are things that are useful to have, sure, but not necessary. For example, I carry around a composition book and a pen everywhere I go, even though hand-writing stuff out drives me up a wall. Why? Because I don't know when I'm going to see something that will spark an idea. I don't know when I'll need to make a note. And flipping open a notebook takes way less time than unloading my laptop, firing up the word processor, creating a new document....blah blah blah. I also use composition books to keep track of things in my books so I don't have to keep going back thirty or so pages to figure out what a certain character's middle name is (it's Irving, by the way).

There are a few things I would suggest you have, but none of it is necessary. Pens, reams of paper, stickies, a cork-board, all help make the job easier, but they're never necessary. I also suggest that every writer should have a good quality laser printer. Why? Because they last a good long time, and editing is easier on paper than it is on the screen.

Next time, we'll talk about your sacred writing space.

Until then, write on!

SAJ

Side Missions

Okay, hotshot, here's the situation: You've finished your manuscript. You've done the mandatory edit, revise, edit, cry, rage, edit, revise and revise again dance, and now it is finished. Finally. Truly. Finished. All that's left now for your newly birthed child is for your agent (or you) to sell it for a suitcase full of cash and promises of questionable moral behavior. So what do you do now?

Conventional wisdom says to do exactly what I'm pretty sure you're thinking right now: Start the next novel. But then you sit down at your keyboard and nothing comes. The pressure mounts as the damned cursor blinks at you from the screen, and every idea you have seems trite, seems stupid, seems worse than the book you just finished. It's frustrating. It's maddening. And you start to have those same negative creeping thoughts that burrow into your skull.

"What if I'm out of ideas?" "What if this is it?" "What if I'll never have another novel to write?" "The world is meaningless!" "I'm a hack!" "I may as well just gorge myself on Oreos and pizza and turn into a swollen toad and die!"

"Fuckoff... I'm stuffed...."

First off, calm down.

Second, there's something you can do. Instead of screaming and crying and throwing yourself on the couch in a fit of self-loathing, go on a side mission.

But Scott, I hear you say, what the hell are you talking about? So glad you asked.

Your imagination, according to the late, great, Ray Bradbury, is like any other muscle. You either use it or it atrophies and dies. The more you use it, the stronger it gets. The less, the weaker. So you, as a writer, need that particular muscle to ply your trade. Think of it in terms of a professional athlete. A pro fighter goes into a training camp for each fight. It's an intensive workout designed to make him the best he can be. But what does he do after that fight's over? Does he stop working out? Does he quit fighting completely?  Not bloody likely. No, they do light workouts. They do maintenance workouts. They keep the muscle memory fresh, keep the joints moving, keep the timing up. Why? Because they want to be ready when the next contract comes in.

Massive power poop in 3...2...1...

Just like you.

Once the big fight (your novel) is over, you want to keep that momentum going, but you don't necessarily want to climb back into he ring for the next fight (you're new novel). So you go on side missions.

A side mission is a short project. Maybe it's a short story. Maybe it's just a few paragraphs a day to keep the creative juices flowing. Maybe it's fodder for your idea folder. Side missions can be things you never see again, or things that unexpectedly blossom into full-fledged novels. The point is, they're things that keep you sharp, but don't necessarily have the emotional attachment of a full-fledged novel. They're things that are fun, because, let's face it, if you're not having fun, you're doing this thing called writing wrong. And if you never pick them up again, so what? You had fun writing them. And if they develop into something more, cool, but no pressure, right?

It's casual.

So how does one go on a side mission? First, place butt in chair. Second, place fingers on keyboard. Third, start typing. Pretty much, it's that simple. I mean, sure you want to give yourself a writing prompt. I have shelves in my writing room that are full of curios and oddities that are all story fodder. I pick one (or two or whatever) and think about a past or a future I could give that item, and just start going. That jump drive? What could be on it that would save the world? That weird brick with all the signatures? Who are they and where did it come from? The suspicious bag hanging from a braid of hair in the bell jar? Where'd it come from and what's it for? Then I start writing and just let it jump out of my fingers and brain like electronic vomit. And when I've reached my daily word-count, I get up and go enjoy the rest of my day. Just like when I write a novel.

Lookit this friggin' guy... enjoying his day...

So lets try a quick experiment, shall we? Quick... Look immediately to your right. What's the first thing you lay your eyes on? In my case, it's big metal coffee thermos (I have a problem... I know... Don't judge me). Now, take into account the two basic plot lines that any fiction follows (A person goes on a journey, or a stranger comes to town) and see how you can place your object into that arena. Got the idea in your head?  Now GO!  Type for your minimum word count! And when you're done, get up, kiss your loved ones, and flex your taut imagination muscles at them like the author you are.

BOOM! BOOM!  FIREPOWER!!!

And the great thing about side missions are this: Y'know that genre thing that you stubbornly adhere to? Yeah, you don't have to cling to it. It's an experiment. You're trying it out. You're just giving yourself some breathing room. You tried weights instead of cardio. No big deal. You wrote sci-fi instead of horror. It's okay. You can diversify.

So yeah. Side missions. Get on it.

Until next time --

-=SAJ=-

Research: Know what you write.

In the world of writers, there's a trite, glib statement that is often shouted at us, and just as often causes feelings of murderous rage:  Write what you know. It's really meant in the best possible way, I know, but it's possibly one of the worst pieces of advice that you could give a writer. "Write what you know."  Why is that so bad? Well, let's look at that statement for a moment. What, exactly, do you know? For most young writers, what you know consists of living with your parents and teenaged angst. And if that's all you write about, where did all the amazing novels about witches and goblins and historical romance and fantasy come from?  You don't know about any of that stuff, do you? Of course not.  Not unless you have a dragon in your back yard or you actually are a serial killer.  In which case, this blog doesn't pertain to you.

I prefer a different maxim:  Know what you write.

Let's say, for example, you're writing about hard science that is based in reality. Internet, nano probes, genetic engineering, prosthesis, bionics, etc. Every one of them are favorites of writers because they evoke the sense of wonder in the reader. They are rife with potential because no one really knows how far the technology can go, and your guess is just as good as the next person's as to what the next stage of technological evolution will be.

I, for one, welcome our robot overlords...

So does that mean that you don't need to research the tech? I mean, really, if I'm writing for the next step, or even several steps, in the future, why do I need to know about the tech now? Of course, you need to research it. How will you know where it can go if you don't know where it is? But, you say, the research is boring and I don't really care about the tech so much as I do the story! Well, here's the thing... If you don't care, why should your reader?

Says the voice of God...

Look, your readers aren't stupid. Your readers are a cagey bunch. If you don't care, they can tell, and there's nothing more off-putting for a reader than to read something where the author doesn't care. And if you don't care, they won't care, and then they'll put your book down. Say it with me:  If I don't care, the reader won't care. It's a truism. And this is where research comes in. If your story features tech of any kind, you owe it to yourself and your readers to have more than a passing knowledge of that tech. I'm not saying you can't create a whole new tech for your novel, but everything follows basic rules and laws. Everything. Everything. Little things like physics and thermodynamics still apply. And, no, I'm not saying you need to have a PhD in either subject to write about them, you should still know how to write about something that obeys said laws, or at least comment on why it doesn't.

Here's where things get weird:  You owe your readers. Seriously, you do. You owe them the best possible reading experience that you can muster. Why? They're buying your work. If you betray that trust, well, they won't be buying your work anymore, will they?

So, instead of relying on your own limited experience to write something and hoping it's in any way accurate, how about doing a little research? If you're reading this, you have access to the sum total of all human knowledge. It's called "Google." You can seriously ask anything about anything and the answers will appear. Then you can read about it and appear to know what you're doing. But it doesn't stop there. You can actually contact real, live people who know about stuff. For some of these people, the things you write about are, in fact, their jobs. Like, policemen, fire-fighters, doctors, lawyers... And people really like to talk about themselves and what they do. So call them up and ask them questions. It can't do anything but help.

But wait, there's more.

Tell 'em all about it, Billy!

Primary research is such an invaluable tool, I can't stress the importance enough. Let's say for a moment that you want to write a scene in which someone shoots a gun, but you've never fired one. How do you research that? Watch movies with lots of gun play?  No way. They're full of inaccuracies and can't possibly convey what it's really like to shoot one. No, if you want to write about it with accuracy, go to a gun range and fire off a few rounds! Use different calibers. Figure out what kind of gun your character would use, and how it would feel to him.

How about this... You want to write a scene of your POV character getting kidnapped and thrown into the trunk of a car. What do you do? First off, you call your best buddy, someone you trust, who you hope doesn't have a sick sense of humor. Then you climb into the trunk of his car and have him drive around the parking lot. You think I'm kidding, but I've done this. And now I know what it feels like to be jostled around in the trunk of a car.

Seriously, I've done this. 

There are simple practical things that you can do for almost any situation, and for the few that there aren't, there are experts who can tell you about their experiences. You owe it to your readers to put in at least some effort. And, as an added bonus, you will not just write better things, you'll grow as a person. So do your research. You, and your readers, will be glad you did.

Until next time...

SAJ

Humility: Training to Make Yourself Better.

No matter how good you are, there's always someone out there who is better than you.  Chances are, quite a few. You train and work for your entire life, and no matter what, the only certainty is that someone, somewhere, will still be better than you. It's a cold hard fact of life.  Deal with it.

Stay with me here.

I'm a 5th dan black belt in Kajukenbo.  My legit rank is "Master" (though no one calls me that... I prefer "Sifu" or just "Scott").  Those five stripes on my belt represent 30+ years of dedication and practice to become a martial artist of what many consider to be a high caliber. And, over those years, you could say I've learned a thing or two about fighting. At 45, I coach people half my age and train them to fight in both tournaments and real life. In the ring, without sounding too arrogant, I'm pretty good and can hold my own.

This is my belt.

Then I met Paul.

This guy...

Paul is only 30, and he can kick in ways I couldn't even when I was sixteen. Paul is lightning fast and wicked accurate. He's easily the best fighter I've ever seen in my life, and there's no two ways about it:  He's better than me. His kata is crisper, his kicks are higher, and his speed is off the charts. He's also one helluva nice guy, and extremely humble. So when he asked me if I wanted to go a round or two with him, I said sure.

Keep in mind, I know the guy can outclass me in the ring and if it came to an all-out slugfest, he'd likely hand me my body parts in a doggie bag.

So the question came up, if I knew he was better and I knew he was going to work me over, why did I agree to fight him? Simple. Paul's the kind of person who will make you better.  By working with a martial artist of his caliber, I become better, whether I mean to or not. A fighter like Paul will force you to step your game up, make you think on your feet, and cause you to work harder.  Not because you want to beat him, but because you want to be worthy to train with him. You can't help but become better when you work with him, and it's an honor to absorb some of his knowledge. I like to think I contribute to the relationship as well (I still know a few katas he needs...), but that's just it. He's that damned good, and he makes me good by proxy.

Same thing holds true for writers.

Don't pretend... You knew...

At Seton Hill, and with other writing programs, we look to the mentors to make us better. Not just the students, mind you, but the pros as well. Some of my very best friends in the writing world have made me better just for having listened to them talk, eavesdropping on their lectures, and having a beer with them and shooting the breeze.

I know, it's difficult. For many of us in this field, there's a certain level of insecurity that comes with the job. It becomes a point to casually mention how many of what you've gotten published, how many awards you've won, what your agent thinks and who else he or she represents, blah blah blah.  It becomes a big distasteful dick-waving contest to see who has the biggest by-line, and when that happens you stop growing. See, it's not about how good you are, or how good you think you are. It's about listening to the folks around you, its about gaining all you can from others, and from learning that it's okay to not be the biggest literary giant in the room. Everyone looks up to someone. Everyone looks up to someone.

Don't be this guy... Please. 

So the question becomes: Who do you want to be?  The guy who brags about how much he's accomplished? Or the guy who listens and becomes great?

You're never as good as you think you are. You're also never as bad as you think you are either. But you can always learn. And the best way to do that is to read the people who are better than you. Talk to the people who are more accomplished than you. Show them respect and learn to admit that there is someone better than you out there. Sure, you get beat a lot. But you learn so much in the process. And in the end, some of that greatness may just accidentally seep into you.

Common Mistakes: The Ten Deadly Sins

Just because I'm a writer and have been published doesn't mean I don't make mistakes.  I do.  I make 'em all the time.  In fact, some of the worst mistakes I make in writing, I don't even see until someone smugly points them out to me.  Usually, that person is one of my current or former students, and more often than not they are pointing out a mistake for which I've beaten them about the head and shoulders.  So I'm not perfect.  In fact, if it weren't for beta readers and editors, a great many writers would never make it to print.  What I want to do, however, is point out a few of the most common mistakes with the hope that you will learn to avoid them.


See, I'm not saying "be like me" or "do as I say, not as I do."  What I'm saying is, I want you to be better than me.

Had - Had is bad.  I've typed that phrase over a thousand times.  Several professors questioned me on it.  But I stand by it. "Had," when used in anything other than the indication of former possession (he had a ball, but now he doesn't) or distant past is just plain wrong. Here's the thing... If you're talking about something that happened just moments ago, "had" doesn't work.  It's not the word you want.  "He had come into the room" vs. "He came into the room."  See the difference?  The first one was an example of something he did repeatedly over a long period of time.  The second one, he walked in just a moment ago.

Excessive Adverbs - We've all been told that adverbs are just a way of defining a verb.  He ran quickly or whispered softly or screamed loudly.  the problem with adverbs is that they're largely superfluous, and they are perhaps the most overused part of speech since the "had."  To wit:  How does someone run?  Quickly.  Do you know anyone who runs slowly?  Okay, yes, some people do, but the expectation in the written form is that, if a character runs, he's doing it quickly, thereby making the word "quickly" superfluous and redundant.  Of course there are exceptions, but they apply when something happens that is out of the norm.  For example, "He ran slowly.   In this case, slowly is not the expectation, so it's necessary.  You also run the risk of what we used to call "Tom Swifties," which is an adverb that so mimics the meaning of the verb it modifies as to render it superfluous, but comedically so. For example, she sang musically.  Well... Yeah.  Singing is, technically (in most cases) musical. If it's not, there's something wrong with your character's singing voice. "I don't know where we are," said Tom lostly.

Right or Left - Who cares?  Does it really matter whether a character's right or left hand is the one that got slapped?  Do we say that when we speak?  Do we say "I hurt my right hand?"  No, we don't.  Right or left, it doesn't matter.  What matters?  Hand.  I hurt my hand.  I got hit in the temple.  I put the keys in my hand.  He stepped on my foot.  See?  Right or left, who cares.  It's a superfluous piece of information that really does nothing more than muddy up your writing.  Unless there's a specific purpose for the mentioning of right or left, leave it out.

You - When you write, typically, you're writing in 3rd or 1st person.  And as such, the reader (or the audience) is stuck behind what we call "the fourth wall."  This is the invisible wall that is removed so we can get a glimpse into the lives of characters that sit in that three-camera set-up of sitcoms.  If you don't know what I'm talking about, go watch an episode of The Big Bang Theory.  See how we only see the apartment from one side?  Ever wonder what's on that 4th wall?  The audience, that's what.  So when you, the writer, use the word "you" (as I'm doing here frequently), it should only be done when directly addressing the reader.  In theater, this is called an "aside."  In literature, this is known as "annoying" and "distracting."

Starting - More often than not, I come across statements that say "he started to run..." or something of the like.  Perform an experiment with me.  Start to run. No really.  What you'll see is that there is actually a moment between not running and running, but "starting" to run is nothing but intention.  There's no movement there.  So if someone "started" to run, I'm left to wonder what stopped him.

Distancing and Filters - Look, I get it.  We all want the reader to know what our characters saw, felt, heard, etc.  It's called description.  But we also want the reader to become thoroughly absorbed in the story, right?  So writers tend to use filters.  "He saw," "She heard," "they knew..."  They're all sensory of one sort or another.  But here's the thing:  Every time you use one of these, you're reminding the reader that "hey... You're reading a story, and being told the story second hand."  There is a way to draw the reader in further, to deepen the POV:  Remove the filters.  Consider the difference:  "He heard birds sing" vs "birds sang."  In the first instance, we are told what he heard.  But in the second, we are there with him.  We hear it when he does.  We know what's going on.

Weak Words - I see words like "this," "these," and "those" all the time.  And guess what.  They're a cop-out.  Words like "this," "these," and "those" are lazy.  They're weak.  And worse, they make your prose read like stereo instructions. The three words listed have their proper places, but their place is not in your narration.  Ever.

Its vs It's - It's really quite simple.  "IT'S" is a contraction.  It means "it is."  "Its" is used in all other cases.  Period.  There's no debate here, no questions, no exceptions.  It's simply how it is.

Your vs You're - Again, easy.  "Your" means possession.  Something that belongs to you.  Your ball, your bat, your nervous breakdown.  "You're" is a contraction which means "you are."

There, They're, and Their - I see this one butchered all the time, and, frankly, it pisses me off.  Someone wasn't paying attention in junior high school.  So for those who still haven't grasped it, "there" is spacial.  "Here or there," "go over there," "what's that over there."  "Their" means "belonging to them."  "Their car."  "Their rugby team."  "Their funeral costs."  "They're" is a contraction which means "they are."  "They're going to murder me when they find out what I've done with their schnauzer, which a buried over there."

So there you have it.  Ten of the most common mistakes I come across in creative writing classes.  There are more.  Sooooo many more.  But these are the most common, outside of basic grammar and punctuation (which are for a whole 'nother blog).  Hope this helps someone.

June 2015 Residency

Another June is gone, and with it, another June residency at dear old Seton Hill University.  I treasure every residency at SHU.  Apart from it being one of two weeks out of the year where people treat me like I know what I'm doing, June is always special because that's when WPF alumni show up for the In Your Write Mind writer's retreat, and it's a chance for us to catch up with former students who are now our colleagues.  And it brings up a few great points.

First off, I've been lucky.  A large number of people I've mentored through the program have gone on to publish their thesis and other books.  That has little to do with me, I promise, as those people are talented and would most likely have succeeded with or without me. But they're all genuinely good people.  When I'm done being a teacher, I consider those people my dear friends, and I feel my life is richer for having them in it.

Second, residency is an amazing time for networking.  In addition to our guest speaker, Chuck Wendig, we had people who represented a great many other industries.  We had video game companies, movie producers, teachers, personal assistants, and, of course, publishers.  And half the time, no one knew to whom we were speaking.  We just knew that we were interesting people having a real conversation and that we treated each other with respect.  Only after speaking to someone (and perhaps being ignorant of their profession) did we discover that all these wonderful people were... Well... Wonderful.  I am always and forever humbled by the fantastic people associated with our department, and it makes me proud to be a part of it.

Lots of talk about the newly legal gay marriage happened at this res...

Third, there is just no substitute for being in a room full of creative types who are all throwing their weirdest ideas out on the floor.  It's a bizarre game of one-upmanship.  And no matter who is declared the victor, anyone who hears the crossfire of insanity that issues forth wins.  In one evening, we dodged the pack-hunting Scottiraptor.  In another, we found ourselves examining the merits of the wall-o-beer at Headkeepers.  We danced with superheroes and discovered that, in our hearts, we love to play the villain.  It was an amazing time.

Pictured:  Better dancing than ours...

Fourth, I am a writer.  No kidding, I hear you say.  But every six months, my batteries get recharged.  And only once in that year am I held accountable.  I meet with my former-students-now-colleagues and am asked the fateful and feared question:  "What'cha working on?"  I hear their success stories and am proud of them for all they've done, and it motivates me to get my ass in gear.  And I think that's the real magic of the program.  Yes, people learn how to be a better writer (and, believe me, I learn just as much from the students as they do from me), but more, the program inspires.  The program conjures greatness and drags creativity from people that few other activities or workshops or retreats or seminars can.

Get back to work, you...

So, to my beloved Seton Hill University, and to the Masters of Fine Arts in Writing Popular Fiction program housed therein, thank you.  Thank you for being you, and thank you for being so generous with your students, and for letting me be counted among your proud faculty.  Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do.

Every story begins with a single line...

Chairs

While mentoring young writers, I often come across similar issues.  One of my favorites is when the writer in question has a brilliant imagination, but clearly hasn't thought things through enough.  I teach a module called "Evolution of the Species" in which we discuss this type of issue, but here' i'd like to focus on a small problem that turned huge pretty quick as an illustration. 

For the purposes of this exercise, let's assume you're a writer.  

Your genre is fantasy (or "high fantasy").  You've created a race of people who have wings.  You have a gift of description that leaves your readers breathless with the beautiful images of purple feathers and soft collars of down.  In fact, this race is so ancient that you have no real reason to create a complete backstory for them because they "have always been."

Submitted without comment...

Then one sits in a chair. 

Now, for a moment, lets ignore all the other issues this world has, such as your winged people living in houses.  Let's just focus on that one detail for a moment. 

In your home, you have chairs.  No, really.  Don't believe me?  Go look.  I'll wait.  See?  Told you.  Now, in your description of these chairs, you go on and on about highly decorated ornate backs of wood and employ your gift of descriptive imagery to its full extent.  The chairs in your world are beautiful and realistic to all the readers.  

Pictured:  Your character's chair.

They're also wrong.  Here's why. 

Follow my thought process here.  Intelligent species first begin designing object to use out of utilitarian need.  We design things that fit our bodies, and if it doesn't, then why on any world would we create them?  Do you see the problem yet?  Okay... Here it is:  If your character, which you describe as the size of a roughly good sized human, has wings large enough to bear him aloft in accordance with the laws of physics, he could not physically sit in a chair because he would break his wings.

"Dammit!  This is why we can't have nice things!"

The same thing applies to every aspect of this new world in which the dominant species has a twelve-foot wing span.  So now it becomes your job as a writer to build your world backward, so you can see what would've been built how, and why.  A species with a twelve-foot wing span would not, for example ever build anything that would necessitate the crushing of one's own wings.  In fact, if you take into account physical limitations, this particular species would, likely, have invented the bar stool long before it ever invented something as obviously meant for torture as a "chair."

See?  No backs, no wing crushings.

Now apply this to other areas.  For example, a "bedroom."  What's the first thing you like to do when you wake up in the morning?  Stretch, right?  Now take a good look at your bedroom.  Hard walls, low ceilings, etc.  If you had a twelve-foot wingspan, would you ever be caught inside something like that?  Chances are, no.  Chances are, it would be torturous for you.  Small windows, roads, vehicles... None of it would even exist in a world where the dominant species had wings.  Hell, roads might not even exist. 

The point is this:  You need to think it through.  Build your world from the bottom up with the dominant species in mind.  There's a brilliant joke that the late great Douglas Adams wrote in The Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy which involves a multi-limbed creature that was unique in the universe in that it invented underarm deodorant before it discovered the wheel.  Necessity.  It's why we create things.  Your species would do the same. 

When you build a world, start with your species.  Then ask yourself a series of questions:

• What are its needs?
• What are its limitations?
• How are they like me?
• How are they dissimilar?

Make good choices for your characters and make your world more believable.  I don't mean make your readers think the world is real, but at least make them wonder at the possibility.  Otherwise, you have creatures who are doing incredibly uncomfortable things for their anatomy.  Like sitting in chairs. 

Development

One of the most difficult things writers have to contend with is the subject of plot development.  I mean, sure, we all have a story or two to tell, but it's not the process of getting from point A to point B that's important.  We're trying to get our characters from point A to point Z, and our plot points are points B through Y.  We are trying to develop our characters and plots so they will be more interesting because, honestly, we want the reader to care about them.  Love 'em, hate 'em, feel something goddamn it.  The worst possible thing that a reader can do is not care whatsoever.  Without some kind of emotional involvement, the reader has no reason to turn the page.

Let's take a look at the great theatrical spectacle that was 1980's-era pro wrestling.  Yes, I'm going to reference pro wrestling.  You got a problem with that?

Pictured:  My "You got a problem with that" face.

The two most popular characters in pro wrestling in the 80's were Hulk Hogan and "Rowdy" Roddy Piper.  Hogan was a largely static character with over-the-top cartoonish proclamations to eat your vitamins, say your prayers, and exercise.  Piper was a kilt-wearing maniac with a fast mouth and a talent for causing trouble, and was one of the toughest sons-of-bitches on the planet.  His words, not mine.  For the record, here they are:

Guess which one was my hero...

Hogan was most often billed as unstoppable.  His routine went something like this:  Get to the ring, get beat down, "hulk up" (which involved shaking and quaking like he was trying to force a large piece of cheese out of his butt), then he'd point as his opponent and yell "YOU!"  Then came his own beat down.  Clothesline, big boot, leg drop, 1-2-3, and everyone celebrates.  It got old.  Really old, really fast.

Piper, on the other hand, was quite different.  You really weren't sure which "Roddy Piper" was coming to the ring.  The mouth?  The fighter?  The lunatic?  Piper kept the audience guessing.  Sure, his favorite finisher was the sleeper hold (which, for MMA fans, is a rear-naked choke), but he didn't always use it.  It was always a guess whether he'd finish his opponent off with that, stomp him into the matt, get himself purposefully disqualified, or any other of a thousand little things that my main man RRP thought of.  And before long a question arose.  Who was the biggest star?  It could be argued that people came to see Hogan win.  But I'm of the opinion that people were actually there to watch Piper lose. Piper did such a good job of making people hate him, he was actually stabbed by audience members.  Three times.  Think about that for a moment.  It's pro-freaking-wrestling for crying out loud!  And yet, RRP really got the people going.

Pictured:  Raleigh, North Carolina, pro wrestling crowd...

Then, an interesting thing happened.  Piper's character developed and Hogan's character didn't, and people started booing Hogan.  The great, the immortal Hulk Hogan, was getting boos from the crowd.  And who got cheered?  Rowdy Roddy Piper.  The difference?  Character development.  Plot development.  Let me explain.  Hogan's character never grew.  He was Superman without kryptonite: Boring.  But Piper took up causes.  His character developed from a crazy person to a person who let us see what was driving him crazy.  He became the original anti-hero (sorry, Stone Cold Steve Austin, but my man Piper beat you to it).  And in doing so, showed the importance of plot and character development.

As a kid, I watched so much pro wrestling that I wanted to be one of them.  But when I was growing up, it was the age of the "big men," and there was no place for a 5'6" guy in the world of pro wrestling.  So I kept watching.  One of my most beloved moments came when Roddy Piper came out before a crowd who screamed his name.  He took the microphone and said, obviously taken aback, "I'm not used to so many people cheering for me.  And I want to make it clear, I ain't running for president, and I'm still the same no-good sonovabitch I always been."  The crowd went insane with love.

So you see, Timmy...

At his core, Rowdy Roddy Piper was the same guy.  But his journey to get from point A to point Z had many twists and turns and made the audience care about him.  They cared enough to stab him.  They cared enough to scream when he came back.  They cared enough that they can't get enough of him.  And that's what you want for your characters.

Every character should be a different person at the end of the story.  Think about it.  You woke up this morning and had things happen.  At least, I hope you did.  And those events of the day made you react.  Even if it was a small thing, you've changed just a little today.  It's easier to see if you look at development over long periods of time.  Think about what you were like as a freshman in high school and try not to cringe.  Your characters need to have similar developments.  What affects your characters?  Pretty much everything. People they interact with, situations that call for decision making, death, birth, car trouble, rain... Everything.  The little changes are what make the character interesting.  The way he makes decisions, and what decisions he makes, bring the reader closer to him.

Pictured:  Stasis Chambers...

Stasis is boring.  There's no room for growth.  Your characters cannot stay in stasis if you expect for people to care about them.  Read any series of books and you'll watch the lead character grow through loss, love, gain, injury, personal epiphany, etc.  Your characters need to do the same.  If your lead character is exactly the same at the end of the novel as he was at the beginning, you're doing something wrong.

Just my $.02...

POV - Deeper! Deeper! Deeper!

A big problem I see with beginning (as well as accomplished) writers is the lack of depth of characters.  For some, depth of character means putting in every tedious little detail about their lives or giving us the full Freudian analysis over the course of several chapters.  But there's a much easier way to deepen your character, and it's by using a very deep point of view (POV).

When we (meaning writers, English majors, stuck up pretentious assholes, etc.) talk about POV, we're usually talking about narration. Either third-person limited (he, she, or it did something, but usually with the narrator attached to one person's psyche at a time) or third person omniscient (he, she, or it did something, but with the narrator privy to everyone's inner-most secrets), first person (I did something), or, in rare cases, second person (you did something).  For the purposes of this entry, I'm going to concentrate on my favorite POV, third person limited, but the same things apply to every POV.

In third person limited POV(3PLPOV), many times, narrators attempt to give us, the readers, the full sensory experience.  Sights, sounds, smells, physical sensations, and tastes are the order of the day.  So let's take an example of a typical line in a story:

"He could see boats floating in the harbor."

Nothing particularly wrong with that, per se.  It does tell us what the character sees, and helps to set the scene.  But it does one thing with which I take issue:  It keeps the reader at arm's length.  How?  By using "he could see," a perceptive filter, it reminds us that we're the observer watching the story unfold, as if we were sitting on the couch watching television.  Think of it in terms of a video game.  The way this is phrased, we see the main character.  But consider the alternative:

"Boats floated in the harbor."

Now, instead of us watching the character watching the boats, we are in the action.  We are seeing the boats.  Instead of watching the main character, it becomes a first-person shooter and we are in the action.

Shallow	Deep

See, in the shallow instance, we're stuck following the character around, and to be honest, there's nothing really wrong with that.  But in the deep instance, we are the character.  We see the world through his or her eyes, and that's what we're after.  So how do we accomplish this?  By avoiding filters, for one thing. 

Filters are the enemy.  We use them often when we speak, and many writers employ them, but that doesn't make them necessarily good.  Perception filters leave us in that "World-of-Warcraft" state in which we don't get to experience anything, but have to be told about it later.  Here are some common perception filter phrases (using the generic "he" to save typing time):

• he saw/smelled/tasted/felt/heard
• he could see/smell/taste/feel
• he knew
• he thought

So I already mentioned how to fix the first two:  State the stimulus as fact.  But what about the last two?  "He knew" and "he thought" can't be so easy a fix, can they?  Yes, actually, they are.  Again, in narration, state what he knew or what he thought as fact, so it becomes a stream-of-conciousness narration.  For example:

"He knew demons hated holy water."

Again, nothing wrong with it.  But consider the alternative:

"Demons hated holy water."

Boom.  Fact.  He knew it, now the reader knows it too.  The reader will go along with it because you stated it in a way that didn't give the reader much of an alternative.  This is how it is.  Demons hate holy water.  

Again:

"I can't jump over that, he thought."

As opposed to:

"The jump was impossible."

In one instance, the reader stands behind the character.  In the other, the reader gets to stand in for the character and live his adventure.  

As always, these are just general guidelines.  There really is only one hard and fast rule to writing, and that's this:  If it's right for the story, if it's right for the character, then it is good.  Everything else is just opinion and conjecture.  

Write on!

Here...There be MONSTERS...

The Seton Hill "Readings in the Genre" course has begun, lead by your's truly. Our subject this time around?  Monsters.  They hold a dear place in my heart because, really, aren't we all monsters of a sort?  More on that in a minute. 

I've chosen a motley crew of misanthropic mayhem masters about whom my students must read.  Included are Vampires (that don't sparkle, dammit), werewolves, golems, demons and... well... snow.  Trust me, it all works somehow.  But I think the question that begs answer is this:  Why are we so fascinated by monsters?  Lets look at the famous monsters of literature (I'm not talking movies...Most of those are one-dimensional sacks of fetid dingo's kidneys) and see what makes them so special.

Adam (the creation from Frankenstein... yes, his name was Adam) fascinated us with his simplicity, his desire to be loved.  Child-like, he was dragged into this world and before he could even begin to question his existence, he was rejected by his creator.  Anyone who's ever watched children on the playground knows how children act:  As Adam himself stated, "If I couldn't inspire love, I would then cause fear."  How many children react to rejection with more rejection?  Most of them.  Adam is, for all intents and purposes, a child in the body of a man, lacking the maturity that comes with age, but possessing all the tools to destroy his enemies.

Dracula, on the other hand, possesses the wisdom of immortality.  Say what you will, butDracula is not a horror story.  It's a romance.  A tragic romance, to be certain, but a romance nonetheless.  It is, for all intents and purposes, the story that asks the reader how far he or she would go for love?  Cross an ocean?  A continent?  Reject God?  The titular character is, from his point of view, justified.  Granted, he's been driven mad by the rigors of immortality and having to feed on the life forces of others to survive, but in his mind, all he wants is the girl he lost to an uncaring God.

Look at Quasimodo from Hunchback of Notre Dame or Eric from The Phantom of the Opera and you'll see miserably misshapen men brought to their demises by the search for love and the madness that comes with it.  But the last two aren't "monsters," are they?  Not really, but they became monsters.  Much like we do.

Monsters, historically, take one of our darkest desires, one of our emotions, one of our flaws, and amplify it (or them) to ridiculous degrees until the creature in question becomes the stuff of nightmares.  So if that is true (and it is), then why are we so fascinated with monsters? 

Because they are us.  They are our fear.  They are our passions.  They are our souls, twisted almost beyond recognition and then shown to us.  They are what happens when we forget our humanity.  They are what happens when we lack the wisdom to walk away.  Monsters are designed to teach us lessons about ourselves.  You'll notice, I never called Adam a monster.  Because he wasn't.  His creator, Victor, blinded by ambition and selfish pride, was the monster.   Yet it was Adam with whom we identified.  Because we've all been that creature.  We've all felt betrayed, thrown out by those who should, but don't, care. 

They are us.  We are them.  When you read about monsters, think hard about them.  Sympathize with them.  Because they are our brothers and sisters.