Category Archives: Writing

Thoughts on my writing process and writing life

Writing Goals for 2019

I have three goals for 2019:

  • Query my mage thief novel. I think it just needs one more revision. And, apparently, a name.
  • Write twelve short stories. This hasn’t historically been my forte, but I have had a nest of flash fiction ideas in the last few days, so I think one a month should be doable.
  • Write a new book! This will probably be my Dream Guild book, but it might wind up being my Mountain Life book instead. Time will tell!

I expect the non-writing front to be much like last year, although I’m hoping to get a better handle on the garden.

Wish me luck!

Living Dangerously

Last night Rob and I went to Free Solo, a documentary about a climber who climbed El Cap without a rope.

It is fascinating, because it shows a very different perspective on risk and fear and death. It’s the sort of perspective that it’s interesting to collect.

I was a gym rat climber for several years, enough that I know climbing technique and can appreciate the skill — and difficulty — involved in something like this. But as a gym rat climber, I dismissed free solo climbers as being nuts. It seemed so needless.

Having gotten a glimpse into this guy’s world, I will revise my opinion: they may not be nuts, but they have a very different way of assessing risk and whether it’s worth it.

It isn’t that this guy doesn’t see the risk. He does. But for him it is a small risk (ha!) with a very high consequence. And to be fair, he does work to make that risk as small as he can, but that doesn’t take the high consequence away.

One of his friends likened it to someone going for Olympic gold, where you would either get gold or you would die. That seemed apt.

Most people would not take that challenge, but it is fascinating to see someone who will accept the challenge, and recognize that he has a lot in common with adventurers and explorers through the ages.

The part that was hard for me wasn’t actually that he was risking his life, but that he was risking the life that others hold dear. I felt bad for his girlfriend (yes, she knew he was into this, but still!), and even the film crew — who were also his friends, and were all too conscious of the possible outcomes.

Watching their fear made it seem real in a way that his own outlook did not.

So, an interesting study on risk, mastery, and how to reflect difficulty in a specialized domain.

 

The Totality: Impressionistic

The landscape fell into shadow, as if night came in from all directions at once. The air grew chill.

The sun still blazed high — and then it was snuffed, a bottomless emptiness where it should have been, ringed with a feathered halo of white fire streaming away into a deep twilight sky.

Around the horizon was a pale band, as if the sun was rising from all directions at once.

This, then, was the end of the world.

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For a more complete and less evocative description of the eclipse, please go here.

Poor Cueing – Wing Commander

Last time, I discussed some thoughts on cues and audience expectation.

Today, I want to look at an example where the cueing was poorly done, and resulted in disappointment for at least some audience members.

My target is Wing Commander.

When I saw this recently, it caught my eye as having a few instances of poor cueing — some of which made a difference, and some of which didn’t.

I am going to look at three examples of failed cueing in the movie. One is the innocuous sort of false cue that is almost inevitable in a complex work. The other two are more problematic.

Example 1: Minor cueing failure

When the MC and his best friend first arrive at their posting, they go and check out the fighters they’ll be flying. Almost immediately they see an attractive female — the first, as far as I can recall.

Rob made a crack about her clearly being the love interest, an opinion that I was inclined to agree with.

Of course, then we met the real love interest some twenty seconds later.

Cue Cause: Something unusual (a girl!), underscored by character attention.

Effect: Brief red herring about the love interest. A minor red herring that did not cause any disappointment when it turned out to be misleading.

Comments: This cueing misfire didn’t really hurt anything, although it didn’t really accomplish anything, either. If there is a good variety of characters all the way through, the storyline will be less vulnerable to such mis-cues, because the first girl (or POC or …) won’t stand out as different from the homogenous norm.

Example 2: Detail-based cueing failure

One of the major sources of tension through the middle of the movie is the MC’s Pilgrim association (he is half Pilgrim, which makes him the subject of suspicion by some of the crew members). Early on, he discusses his Pilgrim memento — an amulet roughly in the shape of a cross — with his best friend. His friend thinks he should get rid of it.

All well and good.

But then it is revealed that it has a little knife that can pop out of it.

It is a striking and suggestive detail.

We promptly decided that it would play a key role in the plot, probably in some sort of fight.

It . . . didn’t.

The amulet crops up again, but the little knife isn’t shown ever again. It doesn’t play a role, major or minor.

We were disappointed.

Cue Cause: something unusual (the amulet has a knife!), underscored by character attention, the fact that it had clear utility, and the fact that it was otherwise pointless.

Effect: this engendered the expectation that the knife would show up later and be used for something cool. The lack thereof caused disappointment.

Comment: this detail registered as a cue rather than an enriching detail because it was unusual, it was not surrounded by other details of similar weight, and it was a detail that had clear application. The reason all of this is problematic is that the viewer is cheerfully waiting for the knife to come into play, and when it doesn’t, is disappointed. It’s sort of like putting a gun on the mantle, but never having it fired or used to hit someone over the head.

Example 3: Interaction-based cueing failure

The MC’s best friend does some semi-competitive showing off with a girl.

The girl subsequently dies in an accident as a result of showing off.

The MC’s love interest blames the best friend.

All well and good.

But then there is a scene where the MC tells his love interest (who is also a officer) that she needs to make things right with the MC’s best friend, because she needs every fighter at her disposal.

This cued the expectation that the best friend would then play an important and likely redeeming role.

But . . . that was basically the last we saw of him.

Cue Cause: an emotionally fraught scene where the MC’s love interest forgives the best friend because they’re about to go into battle.

Effect: this engendered the expectation that the MC’s best friend would play some sort of important or cool role, or — failing that — die spectacularly. It is somewhat ironic, because he did play an important role — but it was before the “clearing the air” scene with the MC’s love interest.

The issue with this is similar to the issue with the unused dagger: there was the expectation that something interesting would happen at the end, and it didn’t happen. With a really good climax that might not have been a problem, but Wing Commander had a relatively weak climax — so the cues relating to interesting things that never happened were far more noticeable.

Comment: if you’re going to make a big deal of needing someone, their success or failure should be important. They should somehow be relevant, whether they come through or not.

To just ignore the whole thing doesn’t hack it.

In this case, I think they were just tying off the sub-plot “hey, we can’t just leave the MC’s love interest mad at the MC’s best friend,” but it looked like it should relate back to the main plot. And it didn’t.

General thoughts:

The two cueing failures that I consider problematic set up expectations for an exciting climax and resolution.

The ending turned out to be pretty lukewarm, so the cues stuck in my mind as missed opportunities.

I see two possible fixes:

1. Pay attention to the critical cues, and fulfill or subvert them.

2. Have such a splendid, satisfying climax that it blows away any recollection of what the audience expected.

Cues and Audience Expectation

I have been thinking about Chekhov’s Gun lately. Although the principle is to only include the bits that will be important to the story, in my mind the more critical takeaway comes down to cues:

If you provide the audience with a clear cue, and fail to fulfill, exceed, or confound their expectations, they are going to be disappointed.

In other words, it’s ok to not fulfill their expectations, but if you don’t, you’d better come up with something even better.

What is a cue? This gets tricky, because the audience is on the lookout for cues, and they may spot a “cue” you didn’t think of — in which case they will be sad when nothing comes of it.

This is, to some extent, inevitable. After all, to produce a rich story, every single thing can’t blossom into a critical plot point. This is especially true in SFF, where vivid and interesting descriptions are often necessary to capture an alien world.

What is an author to do?

I think there are two really important things:

1 – Things that are described in greater detail will be assumed to be more important, unless there is a clear alternate reason for the degree of detail.

2 – There may be small dead-end cues. That is ok, as long as they are minor enough that the memory of them is washed away by the cue that is fulfilled.

If you keep these in mind, your reader will be satisfied.

1 – Detail Equals Importance

This really comes down to use of attention. If the author lavishes something with attention, the audience expects it to be important.

That can be tricky in SFF, where world building is important. If you dwell lovingly on a gun hanging over the mantel, will the audience expect it to be used?

As long as there is a clear reason to be dwelling on it — other than cueing — it isn’t as dangerous. If something is out of place, most readers will presume that it is a cue.

Consider the following examples:

The gun over the mantlepiece was an 8 series Omega Orbital blaster. It was flanked by a pair of Zagon dueling blasters and a rare sniper’s laser from Antares.

vs.

The gun over the mantelpiece had belonged to the professor’s great-grandfather. A filigree of brass curled across the polished wooden stock. An antique ammunition case sat on the bookshelf to the right, half lost among the scholarly tomes.

Which gun do you think is more likely to be used in the story? Which is a stronger cue?

To my mind, the first is simply describing the home of a weapons collector. Oh, I’d expect some sort of mayhem to come about, but it would actually be fun if it turned out to be the antique sabers off to the right.

The second is a gun in a professor’s library. Yes, its presence is explained, but it seems a surprising detail. I’d expect it to go off, or get stolen, or perhaps get damaged. Or I might expect it to signal that the professor is actually interested in guns, and is a crack shot. Regardless, it is included for a purpose.

2 – Small Dead-Ends are Inevitable. . . and OK

If you’re busily describing all sorts of interesting things, some things will catch the audience’s attention more than others. You might expect the audience to be paying attention to the antique gun, but maybe they were more interested in the ammunition case. Or the faded photograph next to the ammunition case. Or….

That is inevitable. And it is not necessarily a problem.

A detail that doesn’t turn into anything only matters if the audience thinks at the end “wait a minute, what happened to X?”

If they do that, you have a cueing problem.

The important thing is that potential cues will usually only be remembered if they became important, or if they were so vivid that the audience members told themselves a story about it.

Once the audience starts theorizing, you have some fulfilling to do.

Thoughts? Agree? Disagree? Please Comment!

Next time:

An example of horrible cueing: Wing Commander.

Revising – Checking Pacing/Continuity

I’m reaching the end of revisions on Joining the Draken; at this point I’ve made my structural changes and am filling in some gaps and smoothing out a few continuity issues.

Then it will be on to final tweaking and refinement before I go on the Great Agent Hunt.

A couple weeks ago I did a pacing/sub-arc/continuity verification exercise that I found very useful, so I though I’d describe it here. It was a somewhat more elaborate version of the calendar checking that Patricia Wrede mentioned on her blog.

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First, I set up a timeline on the left side and sections indicating major characters/plot lines along the top.

Then I added key plot cues on the left side.

Finally, I used handy little colored dots to plot out when important things happen in the story relating to different events and characters.

This gave me a solid visual of the novel that helped me check a few things:

  • Continuity — I could more easily confirm that the key events were stacking up correctly. This was especially important when there was a dependency among different sub-plots.
  • Rhythm — I could verify that things were building the way I wanted them to.
  • Frequency — I could verify that I was actually visiting each sub-plot and character at an appropriate interval (so the reader can hopefully remember who they are).
  • Balance — I could check the give and take in pacing among the different sub-plots.
  • Temporal spacing — I could check that different things had the necessary percolation/build time. Not in terms of pacing, but in terms of “lived” time for the characters.

I found this process very helpful. It helped me catch a few minor continuity issues. More importantly, it helped me fine-tune the interplay among the different sub-plots and determine where to put some floater scenes (things that I wanted to have happen, but had some flexibility in terms of when they should happen).

As a result I shifted a few things around, using blank labels to adjust placement in time.

It would also be helpful to go through this exercise using page/word count as the Y axis instead of calendar time. That would give a better pacing check, although it wouldn’t be as useful for confirming temporal feasibility.

Do you have any interesting strategies for sanity checking the plot during revisions?

Balancing Act

The balancing act of my life has been teetering these past couple months, to the detriment of my writing. As noted in my earlier post, finding time to write largely comes down to priorities.

Unfortunately – or fortunately! – I have had some doozies to compete with my writing.

In February and March I had a lot of projects for my day job (read “things are going too well for my own good”), and wedding planning to catch up on.

I had planned to really get cracking on my writing at the start of April, but my sprint start has turned into a crank-sided limp.

The problem this time is still partly work (things are still going too well for my own good), and partly the unseasonably gorgeous weather we’ve been having. In Western Washington it usually drizzles most of the time until late June. This last week we had gorgeous sunny days half the time (sorry, East Coasters!).

That meant that I wanted to be out, frantically working on getting a garden in.

The days are getting longer, too, which meant that I could work myself until I was pretty exhausted.

All of these are good things, but a bit too much of said good things.

Fortunately the rains came back today, which means that I can turn my attention back to indoor things – like writing!

I have been working along on a short story. I’m a bit stuck on the ending, so I think I’ll switch to Joining the Draken here in a couple more days.

I’m due for a full read-through, with my beta readers’ comments in mind. Normally I try to do that in one fell swoop – devoting a whole weekend day to it. I don’t think that will happen with the current nuttiness, but Rob will be on the night shift this next week. At a couple hours a night, I should be able to knock it out in a few days.

I would love to get revisions done before 4th Street . . . so I’d best get cracking!

Growing Things

Spring officially arrived two weeks ago, and is progressing nicely here in Port Angeles.

A couple days ago I saw a couple elk bulls grazing their way through the neighbor’s field. I haven’t seen them since, so they were probably on their way up the mountain to their summer territory.
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The daffodils are in full bloom, and my sugar-snaps are looking good.

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The big question is whether I can keep the garden safe from the deer. I have rigged a fence out of fishing line – the goal being to (mostly) keep the deer out, without being too ugly. We’re going to supplement that rather frail defense with a motion-detector sprinkler system. Fingers crossed that it will work!

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Gardening is a bit like writing in that you sow and weed and dig, in hopes that in a few months or a few years it will pay off. Many small efforts are necessary to get the bountiful harvest.

The big difference is that a garden will change if you neglect it for weeks or months. With luck, it will grow. Or perhaps it will wither or get eaten. But it will not be static.

A story, if neglected, will just sit there. It will not change. You, the author, will change – which is why a resting period can be very helpful. But the story will wait quietly for your return.

That is both good and bad. Without attention, nothing will happen. But it is never too late!

I am gearing up for another round of revisions on Joining the Draken. I have gotten some very helpful critiques from some of my Viable Paradise cohort, among other brave souls.

The critiques confirmed that I need to ratchet up the tension and conflict. I’m hoping that I can manage it by judiciously sowing a few seeds, doing a bit of pruning, and staking up the droopy bits.

Hopefully by June I will have a burgeoning garden and a book that is ripe for submission!

The Finger of Blame

Who is to blame? This is an interesting question, because it is asking more than “who caused this?” – it is asking “who is at fault for this?”

It is interesting from a writing standpoint because blame very often has a load of anger attached, and the finger of blame is not always reasonable in selecting a target. In other words, it is a prime way of adding conflict to a story.

Have something unfortunate happen. Have one character blame another for it. Good – conflict!

Have one character blame another for it unfairly. Better – more conflict!

Not only can it add conflict, it can also expose information about the characters involved: how the culprit is determined, how the wronged party behaves towards the culprit, and how the culprit responds – all great stuff!

 

This came to mind because of an incident last night.

Rob and I had a dinner gathering for the first time in our new/old house. We have had a few people swing by, but this was the first time we were trying to feed multiple people at the same time, and in style. All rather stressful to start with, since we don’t have a lot of practice entertaining.

 

So I was in the kitchen, trying to get the last few things ready. Rob was showing most of the guests around outside, and I was chatting with one guest while I worked.

Through the kitchen window I saw a dog streak by. Rather worrisome, because one of my cats was outside, and we don’t usually get dogs.

I commented on it, and the guest said “Oh, that’s Tim’s dog.”

One of the guests had brought a dog? News to me.

 

The crew stayed out an unexpectedly long time, and when at length they came in my sneaking fears were realized: the dog had treed my cat.

Well and thoroughly.

Forty feet up a Douglas Fir.

I was not happy.

I didn’t do anything regrettable, but I left Rob to keep everyone entertained while I went out to see whether I could lure Avanti down.

Already, the finger of blame was looking for a target, never mind that I wasn’t about to give voice to it.

The obvious person to blame was the guest in question, the “gentleman friend” of one of our friends. He seemed like a prime candidate, because it was his dog, and he might or might not be around for the long term.

Note that it is very convenient to blame someone if there isn’t a major cost to blaming them.

 

Avanti came down by a couple branches in response to my calling, but didn’t make it any further. Rob brought the ladder and helped me put it up in the fading light, but it was a good ten feet short. I reluctantly went back in, since there was nothing I could constructively do.

 

As it turned out, Avanti made it down just fine all on her own, after I “abandoned” her. This story has a happy ending, so there is no need for me to pin blame on anyone. Note how the lack of consequence lightens the load of blame to almost nothing.

 

But what if she had fallen? Been seriously injured? Killed?

 

Then the finger of blame would anxiously seek out a victim.

It is interesting to look at this as an example, and consider different interpretations – and who might pick one or another.

 

Here are the prime candidates:

  • The dog. He treed the cat. But that’s pretty much what dogs do, so most people wouldn’t be inclined to lay blame there.
  • Avanti. She ran. The dog followed. But running from dogs is pretty much what cats do, so most people wouldn’t be inclined to lay blame there.
  • The guest who had brought the dog. It was his dog, so he was clearly responsible.
  • Rob. Rob had given the guest permission to let the dog out. He did not know Avanti was out, but he didn’t double-check. On the other hand, the guest assured him that the dog did not chase things when he was around. Which turned out not to be true. So maybe the guest was to blame, after all.
  • Me me me. I hadn’t seen that there was a dog, because I was busy getting final touches together, but if I had actually looked out properly I would have seen it in time to forestall a problem.

 

This is where it gets interesting, because there isn’t necessarily a right answer. There are more and less rational answers, but there is some basis for any of these interpretations.

And this is where a writer can have some fun, depending on the desired level of conflict and/or character exposure desired.

 

Rational:

Rob is to blame. He gave permission for the guest to let the dog out, without first checking on the situation. Yes, the guest indicated that the dog didn’t chase things, but almost any dog will chase a critter that runs from it.

In this particular case this interpretation would also have had all sorts of potential for relationship friction. Great potential for a story that focuses on relationships!

 

Conflict-avoiding:

I am to blame. I should have seen the situation and prevented it from happening. This is probably how I would have played it if something dire had happened, because I have a lot of trouble blaming other people if they blame themselves (which Rob would have done). From a writer’s standpoint, this is probably the least satisfactory, since most of the conflict would be internal. It could be useful from the point of view of exposing character, but that’s about it.

 

Simple:

The dog is to blame. In this case the dog was just doing what dogs do, but then a dog that gets in and kills chickens or somesuch is still doing what critters do, and it doesn’t necessarily prevent the humans from holding the critters accountable.

This doesn’t have direct conflict potential, but it has excellent indirect conflict potential. If the “wronged” party holds the critter accountable, and demands that the critter itself suffer for it – be put down, in an extreme case – that will then give rise to all sorts of conflict with the owner or defender of the critter.

All of this can be interesting, but I think the majority of readers would view this interpretation as unreasonable, at least in a case like this.

 

Blame the victim:

Avanti is to blame. She shouldn’t have run. The fact that she ran triggered the whole incident.

This is a good choice if you want to say something very specific about the character involved. It takes a certain sort of person to blame the victim – although more people are likely to do so if they are the obvious alternate culprit.

 

Direct:

The guest is to blame. It was his dog. Yes, Rob gave him permission, but the guest said that the dog didn’t chase things. He was mistaken.

This is a nicely defensible position, and in this case it also has the benefit of blaming the outsider in the group. Always a favorite!

This has conflict potential either if there is a nice blow-up at the party, or if the guest actually stays in the story. It could become a nice point of friction with the friend who brought the gentleman-friend in the first place.

 

With all of this, there are a few key points: who is blamed, how much emotion is behind the blame (which is likely to influence how reasonable the blame is), how the emotion is acted on, and how the blamed party responds.

This can get especially dramatic if it is a group of people (ethnic, cultural, political) that is blamed instead of an individual.

All sorts of fun things to play with – and a potentially valuable exercise for my own writing, since I’ll be working on upping the conflict level in Joining the Draken over the next couple months.

Hmm. What can I come up with that will cause a nice storm of blame?

 

What My Viable Paradise Cohort is Doing!

Life has been decidedly nuts of late: long hours for my day job, lots to do on the house, and a wedding to plan! I have been taking a little break from writing while I try to cope with all of that. I’m hoping to resume in March, but in the meantime my Viable Paradise cohort has been writing some nifty things:

  • Lauren Roy – not part of my cohort but one of the invaluable sanity support members for VP – has a new book out! Check out Grave Matters at your friendly neighborhood bookstore!
  • Shveta Thakrar wrote a very touching essay about what it was like to grow up feeling like a changeling: a child of non-European cultural background in small-town America. I just want to go back and give her teenaged self a hug!
  • Fonda Lee wrote a great short story involving irresponsible friends and 3D printers for Crossed Genres.
  • KJ Kabza has a piece in Beneath Ceaseless Skies. Issue 168 is not available on-line quite yet, but I’ll update the link when it is!
  • Ben Kinney wrote a couple nice blog posts, one involving flaming bears in Judaism, and one comparing Chosen One plots to the Power of Love plots.

Nice job, everyone! It is inspiring having friends doing so many nifty things!