GENREALITY

I’m reading lots of books on pirates right now, because I’m writing a novel with pirates in it.  How cool is that?  Did I mention I love my job?  I think I was watching the second Pirates of the Caribbean movie when I thought, I could do this so much better.  It’s amazing how many of my stories start that way.  One of the ways of making it better is actually reading some books about eighteenth century pirates.

Research is another one of those things that everyone does differently, I think.  I’ve encountered two main theories:  do lots and lots of research, read everything you can, talk to people, learn a subject inside and out, then write the book.  Or, write the book, figure out what you need to know, then look up that specific information. (This method helps you avoid the pitfall of inserting a lecture on the origins of gunpowder into your otherwise fast-paced genetically engineered dinosaur thriller.  I’m looking at you, Crichton.)  Both methods have drawbacks — if you try to learn everything about a subject before you start writing, you may never start writing.  But if you don’t do enough research before you start writing, you may miss out on the information that takes your story in amazing new directions.  Or you may start working on an idea that couldn’t actually happen.

As with so many things, a middle road is usually best.  I read a couple of books before I started, which gave me lots of ideas that have worked their way into the plot.  For example, before modern shipbuilding methods hit the scene, crews had to careen their ships a few times a year — run them aground and tip them over so they could clean all the barnacles, worms, and slime off the hulls.  Otherwise, the hulls would rot out.  What a great scene!  I had no idea!  But after reading a couple of books, I was so excited to get started I just did, even though I had so much more to learn.  (Like how would they have treated a broken leg?  How did they carry water on the ships?  What kind of ship are they sailing?  I had no idea there were so many different kinds of ships plying the waters of the Caribbean in the eighteenth century!  Sloops, pinks, brigantines, schooners, galleons…)

Like Lynn, I tend to put a bunch of bracketed notes in my first drafts, like what famous pirates were at the Bahamas and when, what a ship’s surgeon’s training would have been, what the captain’s quarters would have looked like, how the prisoners on a slave ship were chained, and so on.  It’s not worth stopping the flow of writing to look up that information when it doesn’t change the story.  That’s not research so much as fact checking.

I never think I do enough research.  I’m sure I don’t.  But see, I don’t have to know a topic inside and out in order to write a book.  I only have to convince the reader that I do.

We’re told to write what we know.  So why is it worth it trying to become an instant expert in a subject we don’t know?  Because not every expert can write a rip-roaring novel about their subject.  Some can (giving rise to whole shelves full of medical mysteries, lawyer mysteries, military-based techno thrillers, and so on).  But a historian specializing in eighteenth century piracy is probably going to spend most of his or her time writing nonfiction about pirates.  Which leaves it to writers like me to absorb all that nonfiction and make an adventure of it.

Obligatory plagiarism notice.  It should go without saying, but there’ve been too many instances where it needed to be said:  research does not mean inserting your source material word for word into your novel.  It should go without saying because interrupting the narrative flow to deliver a lecture on sailing techniques would be dead boring.  Unless you’re Herman Melville, who got away with a lot of exposition because he really did sail on nineteenth century whaling ships.  The thing to do is read lots of books.  Then put the books away and write what you know.

A lot of writers talk about how they only write novels — they’re only able to write novels.  They only write long, and can’t imagine writing something under 5000 words.  I’ve heard the reverse as well, writers who only write short stories and find the idea of writing long an almost impossible feat.  Lots of writers break into publishing only writing novels.  Lots of writers start with short stories and may never write a novel.

I write both.  I started with short stories because that’s just what I wrote, to begin with — little one-scene vignettes.  As I got better and more involved in my writing, the stories got longer, until one day I realized the story I was working on had passed the 20,000 word mark and still had a ways to go.  Holy cow, I was writing a novel!  I feel incredibly fortunate that my early writing developed so organically and that I never much agonized over writing one or the other.  I know that isn’t true for everyone.

I think there’s great benefit to be had from writing both short stories and novels.  Short stories are a great format in which to experiment — with a new point of view, a new setting, a new character, or an idea that doesn’t seem complex enough for a novel.  Submitting and publishing short stories can help you get your foot in the door.  And if you’re just starting to write, the learning curve is tremendously steep.  You learn about characterization, plot, and so on, but even better you learn about writing beginnings, middles and ends — and you can do it in a few thousand words in a week or two rather than in 100,000 words over the course of a year.

At the same time, if you want to make any kind of splash as a writer — and especially make a living at it — you really need to write novels.  However, once you get a novel out there, you might get invited to write a short story for an anthology.  The original short story anthology is alive and kicking, and these can be a great way to find new readers.  I’ve had plenty of people tell me they picked up an anthology for another writer’s story, but they read mine, liked it, and sought out my books.  So even if you’re one of those writers whose natural length is the novel, and you’ve never written a short story, I think it behooves you to develop that skill.

How do you go from one to another?  For novelists trying to write a short story, the key is to limit yourself.  Short stories only have room for a couple of characters.  So no meandering digressions where you describe everyone in the room.  We don’t need to know about the character’s whole family.  You pretty much get only one plot — no flashbacks about the main character’s sordid past, no dwelling on the failed romance and chance for redemption.  But short stories also give you a chance to experiment.  Is there a secondary character that you’ve always wanted to know more about, but don’t have the time or inclination to write a whole novel about?  A short story can be a great way to pursue that.  Is there an episode in one of your characters’ pasts that you’ve always wanted to explore?  Is there a favorite concept that you had to cut out of a novel because it just didn’t fit?  Limit yourself to one thing, and just a couple of characters.  Avoid digressions.  Be ruthless and stay on target.

Examples abound of writers who’ve turned successful short stories into slam-bang novels, but I don’t think every short story has that potential.  If you want to expand a short story into a novel, it’s important to pick a story that has a lot of potential.  Is it an idea that can be looked at from several perspectives?  Would adding more characters and more plotlines make the idea richer?  Does the story hint at a complex background that can be expanded on in a longer work?  If you’re used to writing short stories, writing a novel is a matter of adding layers, of exploring every thread and possibility, of giving your characters room to have many more relationships, and to grow and change in ways that aren’t always possible in a short story.  Instead of a single episode of a TV show, you’re writing an entire season.

I think there are short story ideas, and there are novel ideas.  I’ve learned to recognize the very cool, but simple idea that I can develop in just a few thousand words.  Only a few characters — no more than three or four — are involved, and they’re centered on one core concept.  That’s going to be a short story.  Novels happen when the story has a whole cast of characters, and the core idea spawns several more ideas in long tangled threads, or when I can combine a couple of core ideas to great effect.  Being able to write both is important because it expands your writer’s toolbox — and your opportunities.

When it comes to writing erotica, imagination is everything. Not because you have to be able to come up with a ton of elaborate or kinky scenes, but because you have to be able to embue your characters with emotion even when writing a scene that you yourself might not find erotic or sexy. Because emotion is what takes a sex scene from the realm of ‘just sex’ to something truly erotic.

Erotica is, and has been a complete genre on its own for decades. A genre that not only encompasses literary stories, but photography and art as well. There doesn’t have to be sex involved to make something erotic. It’s all about feelings elicited. It seems easy for people to look at a photograph and say it’s erotic, even when there is not overt or explicit sex, yet for some reason when a book or story is called erotic, or erotica, it’s expected to be completely about sex.

I’ve taught a lot of workshops and been part of a lot of discussions where authors of all levels ask what makes a story erotic? Is it how quickly the characters get naked? Is it the number of sex scenes? Or wait no, it’s how Kinky the sex is, right? How far you can push the envelope.

In my opinion, none of those things matter when it comes to making a story erotic. One of the most erotic scenes I can remember writing wasn’t even a sex scene! The characters never touched, it was all about eye contact, and what that character felt in that instant of connection. In real life, kinky sex, or plenty of sex, is no fun if your partner doesn’t know what they’re doing, so why should sex in books be any differnt? It doesn’t matter how much sex is in a story, or how edgy, kinky, imaginative it is, if the author doesn’t know what they are doing.

By definition something is erotic when it tends to arouse sexual desire or excitement. What arouses a person varies, therefor, what’s erotic to one person may not be erotic to another. It takes all kinds to make the world go ‘round, and all kinds to buy enough books to keep a writer employed. So that means, fantasies of all kinds should be explored, unless you’re looking to fit into a niche market of some kind (Like BDSM, Gay/Lesbian, Menage, etc.)

So how does an author make a scene erotic to the majority of readers? By embuing it with emotion.

Now, that doesn’t mean the characters have to love each other. Heck, they don’t even need to like each other. They do have to be aroused by each other though. Passion, tension, excitement, anticipation, anger, even shame or pain…when intensified all feelings become emotions- don’t let yourself fall into the trap of thinking just because love isn’t involved that there is no emotion. It’s up to you, the author, to make it clear that the characters are into whatever it is that they are doing, that whatever they are feeling is is a turn on for them, and then you have to get that across to the reader. It doesn’t matter if it’s a look, a touch, or a full on head banging-whip cracking sex scene, you have to make the reader believe the characters are feeling it. If you do that, then the reader will find the story erotic.

Whether you want to write erotic fiction, or just want to make a particular scene in your story erotic, always remember that emotion is way more important than how wild, or edgy, or flexible, your characters are. Now, do me a favor….without thinking too hard, answer this question in the comments.

What is the most erotic scene you can remember from a book, movie or TV show?

Now for more questions…..yes, you can think for these ones. Why did you find it erotic? What made it so hot? Was it the good looking actor/actress? Was it the sex act itself? Maybe the story line that built up to that scene (ie: the tension/anticipation) ? Or the emotional breakthrough that might’ve happened during the scene? What was it that made that scene stick in your memory as erotic?

“The work never matches the dream of perfection the artist has to start with.”

– William Faulkner

What do you do when you’re going over the galley’s of your soon to be released book, and you’re seeing all sorts of mistakes? And not just any mistakes, but rookie mistakes. Things like repeated words, or stilted sentences – things you know you could fix easily, if only you’d noticed them earlier. Or if you were allowed to fix them now.

By ‘allowed to’, I mean just that.

If you think that when you first write The End, that you’re done writing your book, then you are kidding yourself. If you think you’re done after you’re done any revisions you get, you’re mistaken. If you think you’re done after you go over the line edits…. well, you get the idea.

This is something no one prepared me for. I’m pretty darn new to this publishing gig. I started writing 7 years ago, and while I was lucky enough to have starting selling what I wrote 6.5 years ago, I’m still a babe making rookie mistakes. My publisher is very strict about the fact that when I get my galley’s this is for MINOR CHANGES ONLY. Ones that are only absolutely necessary. But just because *I* think they’re absolutely necessary, will they? Because they reserve the right to ignore my corrections. And sometimes, they do.

You’d think that by the time I’m looking at galley’s that I’d have been over it enough to have it perfect..right? Uhmm No. Why not? Because I’m constantly striving to make things better, and the more I write, the more I learn. And the more I learn, the more mistakes I see in what I’ve written in the past. And when writing for a New York print publisher, the galleys tend to come anywhere from 6 months to a year after I’ve finished the first draft of the novel. So, I’ve learned things since then..or at least I think I have. LOL

However, there does come a time when it becomes clear that the book is no longer just MY book, but it has become OUR book. Sure, my name goes on it. And when there are grammar mistakes and typos still in it, I’m the one who gets the reader /reviewer emails saying “what’s up with that?” But, contrary to popular belief, I, the author, do not always get the last word on what gets fixed/tweaked. Which is probably a good thing, because I’m sure editors have learned that without deadlines, or limits, we would just keep tweaking and rewriting every story, because a good author is always striving to make things better…(and that can lead to the problem of over-editing, which is a whole ‘nother post) And while I may have birthed the characters and written their story, I’m no longer the only person who’s put work into it.

This was a hard lesson for me. No one ever warned me that there would be a time when my corrections/wishes could get ignored. And as someone who DID take other authors advice of not reading my books again once they were in print, it took me a while to realize it. So I’m telling you now. Focus on your edits when you have the chance, and get them right. Double check your line edits from the copy editor, and when the galleys come…be sure to go over them with a fine-tooth comb. But most of all… accept that you will almost always find things you want to correct, and that’s okay, because a perfect story is not always a good story, and a good story is not always perfect.

Last week I talked about establishing the premise of your novel.  That discussion generated some excellent comments and not a few questions about how to turn your premise into a full fledged storyline, so this week I wanted to talk about the dreaded “S” word.

You know the one I’m talking about.

Synopsis.

–Shudder–

I know so many writers who hate writing a synopsis and I’ve never been able to understand why.  After all, it is your ticket to publication.  A good synopsis will get an editor or agent excited about reading your book and that’s the first step to getting an acceptance.

So, this week we are going to dissect the synopsis, understand what it is used for, and give you some tips to write your own.

In the simplest of terms, a synopsis is a present tense summation of the key events in your story. (Present tense because it creates a feeling of immediacy and excitement.) It allows the editor or agent reading the synopsis to get a snapshot understanding of what happens to whom and why.  Structurally it must present the book’s plot, theme, and characters.  Stylistically it must package the characters, dramatic events, and plot together in such a way as to serve as a preview of the entire book.

Easy, right? 

(Sure, they say, doubt hanging on every letter.)

There are as many different ways to write a synopsis as there are books on the shelf.  I’ve found one that works for me and I’ve stuck to it ever since.  I’m going to share that with you today, but understand, this certainly isn’t the only way of doing this.  (In fact, I’d love to hear how others do it too!)

Every synopsis I write contains certain essential elements.  These are:

• Theme
• Setting and Time Period
• Plot Summary
• Character sketches
• Emotional Turning Points

(I might occasionally throw in Dialogue as well, but it is rather infrequent so I didn’t include it in my primary list.)

Let’s look at these one at a time.

Theme:

Theme is an often overlooked element of many book proposals.  I find it lets an editor know immediately that you are aware of the potential undercurrents of your own work and that you want your story to impart something to the audience besides entertainment.   Convey your theme in one sentence or phrase – be as concise as possible.  My debut novel RIVERWATCH told the story of a gargoyle-like creature terrorizing a small New England town.  The theme, however, focused on the idea of sacrifice in the face of overwhelming odds.  The three novels in the Templar Chronicles trilogy focus on the exploits of a combat team that works for the Vatican.  The theme deals with how one man handles a confrontation with the infernal and, by extension, the divine as well.

Setting and Time Period:

You want your editor to know exactly where and when your story takes place before they get too deep into the plot summary.  I usually do this in a simple opening statement.  Something along the lines of “EYES TO SEE is a modern urban fantasy set in New York City”  or “IN THE SHADOWS OF MADNESS is a historical thriller set just before the fall of Berlin in 1945″ – you get the idea.  The default is usually a current time period and setting, so if you do not specify either one this is what the editor is most likely to assume.

Plot Summary:

Obviously the plot summary is the heart of your synopsis.  What most beginning writers fail to realize is that you must summarize the beginning, middle, and the end of the story.  You don’t want to frustrate the editor or agent reading your proposal with leaving only a teaser ending to your synopsis.  “Will the Ghostbusters escape from the clutches of the evil Stay Puft Marshmallow Man?  Request the full manuscript to find out!” is a big mistake.

You want the editor to walk away from your synopsis with the sense that you not only know where the story is going, but that also you know why it is going there and you understand the actual route it takes along the way.  You want to show that the actions of the characters are grounded in their motivations and are a natural result of the situations they find themselves in, rather than a forced chain of events that result because the writer needs it to happen that way.

I take care to highlight the inciting incident that sends the hero on his way, the attempts and failures he undergoes to reach his goal, and the final climax of the story.  In other words, highlight the problem, the conflict, and the resolution of your tale.  I do not go into every little subplot or minor character because I want to maintain the editor’s interest and don’t want to make the story seem convoluted or confusing.

Character Sketches:

Because I now include these as a separate standalone element in my novel proposals, I have recently stopped adding them into each synopsis I write.  In the past I would include them so that the editor would understand that I recognize the unique elements of each character and could show that their motivations were true to the actions they take in the story.

Emotional Turning Points:

Every novel is full of tens if not hundreds of little scenes that drive the story forward but that can’t stand alone as major elements.  They do, however, contribute to a growing crescendo of emotion that culminates in a major scene that impacts the story in such as way as to be indispensible – in other words, it would be a different story without those elements.  Including the emotional turning points in your synopsis is vital.  In effect, your synopsis should almost leapfrog from one emotional turning point to another.

A Thought on Subplots:

The only time I include subplots in my synopsis is when they are intrinsically involved with the primary plot.  Otherwise, I leave them out so as to avoid muddy up the waters and pushing myself into a rejection.  If I can tell the primary storyline clearly, I have a stronger chance of having the book accepted than if I got the editor confused with six different subplots that aren’t vital at this stage of the game.

There you have it – my formula for a decent synopsis.  So how do you approach writing a synopsis?  What works for you?  What doesn’t?  For those of you still shying away from writing one for each of your projects, where is it that you are having trouble?

I’d love to hear your thoughts and comments!