Fiction Like White Elephants: Subtext in Your Stories

Let's talk about subtext, you know, that stuff that's hidden subtly in your stories even though it never really leaves a footprint.

Dialog. How important is the stuff your characters don't say or avoid saying to each other in your work?

Terrance Layhew: Creating subtext in conversation is necessary. It immediately gives an inner world to the characters and a larger world at play. What people avoid saying directly or indirectly raises stakes, but done too much makes the story a melodrama.

Elizabeth Donald: If my characters are as close to living, breathing humans as I can make them, the things they don’t say are wildly important - just as they are for us allegedly-real people. When a married couple sits at the dinner table and says nothing but “pass the salt,” that tells us a great deal about their relationship, their thoughts and feelings, the comfort level they have reached (or not) between them. There are many times when we feel spurred to speak and do not, either for fear of social or professional consequences, adherence to behavior norms in society, or our own personal tendencies; a person who is generally conflict-avoidant may remain silent when insulted, even as they are burning to speak - or shout - on the inside. All of these should come to play in our characters, if we are to make them real. The worst thing you can do is an “As you know, Bob…” where a character explains the blatantly obvious to a person who already knows this information. A little subtlety goes a long way.

Sheela Leyh: From my own experiences, the subtext and context both matter. What is said is often just as important as what isn't said. It can and does affect your readers, as well as how your communication is received and does affect meaning.

It is important in mine as I hear dialog early in the writing process, even before the plot unfolds fully. What isn't said is often left for the reader to piece together as part of my thisness layer, as well as to help hold the reader's interest. For context, thisness is an older writing technique that helps make a place more real to a reader without jarring the reader out of the reading experience. The Oxford Writer channel on YouTube does one of the best explanations on the thisness concept that I've seen so far. By trusting the reader to fill in some gaps by leaving out only what needs to be left out, it helps build that relationship with the readers.

Jessica Nettles: Dialog: Silence is a lot like white space on a page. It gives room for the reader to breathe and feel and think thoughts about what ought to happen. With dialog it also give space for things to grow between characters. Kate and Shadow have a LOT of unspoken stuff between them. For instance, neither of them have to say, “I respect you.” They say it in the way they work. There are readers who have picked up something more between them—and maybe it’s there. Shadow certainly won’t say what he feels about Kate, mostly because he isn’t sure what to do with that feeling. He files it under respect, but he would defend her until he faded away. She sees him as her equal, which is once again, never spoken.

The Backstory Iceberg

For our new roundtable, let's talk about your characters, specifically their backstory.

How deep do you go into figuring out your MC's backstory? Your lesser characters? How do you determine how far is enough?

Jessica Nettles: It depends on the character and how much I think I need to know. Sometimes that changes as I get to know the character and learn more about them and where they fit in my world.

Sheela Leyh: I used to go very in-depth in the past to get to know everything about my main character. The lesser characters I used to do quite a bit of detail, However, I've stopped doing that as much. It's more of what is needed to move the story along while still giving it life. I noticed that when I stopped going as deep and let the story emerge unhindered that it started taking off easier for me. I let my characters talk to me and then gauge it as it comes up during the writing process.

Elizabeth Mirasol: I'm a pantser, so as I'm writing, my character shows me more of their background and I can build on it. I just start with a brief personality and image in my head and go from there.

Wade Garret: I created DnD character sheets for my MCs and some secondary.

Sean Taylor: Mine vary. I used to go a lot deeper, but the more I wrote, the more I internalized that process and didn't need to address it as a strategic part of my process. I was able to have it take shape as needed as I wrote, leaving on the major character beats as something I needed to spec out before writing.

However, when I create characters that other writers will also tackle, I create a very, very in-depth story bible because I can't afford to leave anything stone unturned (as the cliche goes) or anything to chance.

Beyond Plotting and Pantsing -- Creating and Maintaining Your Story Structure

Okay, writerly types, it's time for another Writer Roundtable here on the blog. For this one, let's talk about story structure and how you build your stories.

Instead of rehashing the same old plotter vs. pantser argument, let's talk about how to work your plots regardless of which method fits you. 

How do you store ideas that you want to work into your stories? How much detail goes into plot "nuggets" when you store them?

Sheela Chattopadhyay: I either write ideas down in a small nugget/trivia like form or I record a voice note for later on to add into my writing notes for later. The detail level varies by the idea's depth at that moment in time.

Duane Laflin: I simply have a file on my computer labeled "Book ideas." When I see something that might work in a future story, I put it in the file.

Nancy Hansen: I don't outline, but I generally start something with a vague concept of what might happen. Now and then I will get a good idea that I can't work on now, so I'll shove it in a file for that particular story, which are all in virtual file folders on my PC, and backed up elsewhere on thumb drives or a portable hard drive. With AI out there, I'm not into cloud backups. I just get enough of the general notion laid out in a few sentences so that when I pull it up again, I have something to go with. Sometimes it's just a picture I saved that sparked an idea. That goes in the file too.

Klara Schmitt: While formatting goes out the window, I do try to be pretty detailed in my idea chunks. I do not bother trying to account for redundancy (e.g., when one idea undoes another), though. I'll sort that out later.

Tony Sarrecchia: Story ideas go into my Notes app with a hashtag Story Idea. This is my clearing house as I also have notebooks where I capture ideas in greater detail, but eventually move them into this file. Some notes are detailed down to dialogue and actions, while others are ‘guy discovers a pack of werewolves live in his garage’.

Sean Taylor: Pre-structure, I use speech-to-text to store any ideas that hit me from out of the blue. I keep them in a file on my phone. Eventually, I cull what doesn't work and write the others into plot points in my plot document in Word. Sometimes, these nuggets can be very details, with word choices and beats and what scene they lead into. Other times, they may just be a kernel of an idea that isn't fully popped yet, just sitting there waiting for another new idea to help it make sense and fit it. 

Van Allen Plexico: My outline and first draft is in a Google Doc, and I just add stuff as I come up with it, in order, while writing the actual draft from the top.

Brian K Morris: Little bits of business or scraps of dialogue are dutifully scribbled onto a small notepad I keep by my laptop for when these ideas occur. However, if I know exactly where one of these nuggets can go, I will stop what I'm doing and insert it into the story. As I work, I tear off the paper where the event/special words waited for me. And yes, I know I shouldn't edit as I go, but this works for me.

Writing Folks Who "Just Ain't You"

As writers, we all know that little swell (or maybe massive swell) of butterflies when we try to capture the voice/characteristic/personality of characters who clearly aren't us. It may be writing across gender lines, racial lines, sexual identity lines, or just a pessimist trying to write an optimist, or a rural trying to write an urban. 

For this roundtable, let's talk about how we do that in a way that satisfies a writer's need for authenticity. 

Where do you fall on the scale between "I can write any kind of anybody" and "It's really hard to write people who aren't like me"? Why do you think that is?

Ron Thomas: Fortunately, there is more than one “me” in my head! I can draw on my serious side for a lead character and my wise ass side for the sidekick. Even the villains draw on a bit of “wish fulfillment” for me. I heard a long time ago that mystery writers are closet criminals...

James Palmer: This is always a challenge, especially if you're writing BIPOC or LGBTQ+ characters. I don't know what the answer is except for getting to know different types of people, especially those from these groups, and read the fiction they write. Any writer who gets it right is a good choice too. Matt Ruff is a white dude, but his Lovecraft Country is a masterclass on how to write black characters without comparing their skin to coffee or cocoa every paragraph.

Brian K Morris: I like to think I can write, pretty much, any type of character. To do it correctly, I need to research them, their way of life, their mode of thinking. In a way, it’s profiling the subject by studying others.

And this doesn’t just cover a demographic. When I’m asked to write an existing character, or I pitch a story to do so, the same kind of research needs to happen. I need to get them right. If they have a distinctive way of acting or speaking, I need to emulate that as best I can.

Sheela Chattopadhyay: I find that this is more of a matter of perspective, rather than just a straight line issue. You need to understand the cultural differences that can affect someone's perspective to make this happen in some cases. In other cases, you have to understand where the person is coming from and their motivations.

Ratcheting the Tension

Let's talk tension. No, not the way your back and shoulders feel after watching the news, but the dramatic tension in your stories. 

We're all taught that the best (or at least easiest) way to build tension in your stories is with a ticking time bomb. Have you found this to be effective for you? Examples from your work?

Peter G: I avoid the ticking clock as much as possible. Or, at least, limit its presence. My Hannah Singer books, for example -- there is a sort of ticking clock when Hannah is arguing in court. Once a petitioner's fate is decided, there's no do-overs, so she only has one chance to get it right. But, to ratchet up the tension, that's where the trial arguments come in. I intentionally make the stories where she gets the toughest cases, so the tension comes from seeing if Hannah can figure out what is going on AND can circumvent it. Telling the stories in first person and walking the readers through her mental processes helps. As a result, the tension shifts from getting something done in a certain amount of time and over to how smart she is.

Bobby Nash: I have used figurative and literal ticking bombs in stories. Putting a clock on solving a problem is a great way to ratchet up tension for the characters and readers. Knowing something bad is coming and they are no closer to solving it can make characters snap, lash out, or go introspective. Those things radiate out to the reader.

In Snow Hunt, Snow and his former C.O., a bomb disposal expert, are trying to catch a bomber who has been hired to assassinate someone of importance. They know the general where, the how, and the who. The tension comes in finding the bomb, which could be hidden almost anywhere in the conference center. Then, there’s tension when it’s found. Can we diffuse it in time? Then, there’s tension in trying to catch the bad guy before he gets away. There are several opportunities for tension in those scenes.

Sean Taylor: For me, it has always been the simple question of "will they" or "won't they." That's my ticking clock, and I have till the end of the story to resolve it. This can be a life-or-death situation, such as will they catch the killer or will they escape the death trap, as in my pulp stories. It can also be a more subdued, normal situation, such as will they fall in love or will they be able to reconcile. But regardless of the question, if it has the power to drive the narrative, it will have the power to build tension regarding its answer. 

The Courageous Soul

For the next roundtable for authors, let's talk about that "Courageous Soul" Kate Chopin said an artist must possess. 

In what ways have you found you had to be courageous as you became a writer? Is it something practical like just having the guts to try to make a living at it or something more cultural by using your work to make a statement?

L. Andrew Cooper: Writing anything for publication involves the possibility of ridicule and rejection and so always requires courage, but beyond that, the amount of courage you need relates to how much of yourself you're willing to expose and what other chances you're willing to take. I believe the best writing involves risk, so it requires a lot of courage.

Ef Deal: The only "courage" I needed to summon was to keep writing although I never sold or made a cent out of it for over 25 years. My husband resented it immensely, but he was someone who'd been paid to play since he was 9 years old. He was impressed that I had a rejection from Lester DelRey, and that I chatted or hobnobbed with writers he knew, but I don't think he ever thought anything would come of my writing until it actually did a few years ago. I never considered it courage, though. I just couldn't not write.

Bobby Nash: I think you have to be pretty courageous to put anything creative out in the wild. People can be cruel.

Brian K Morris: A little of all of them. I realized early on that if I wanted to carve a portion of the market for my work, it had to sound like me. I could sound like it was from a store of knowledge I'd amassed, or a point of view. I believe ANY opportunity to expose your inner workings, especially your heart, leaves you vulnerable and should be approached with derring-do.

Sheela Chattopadhyay: While I might not care much for Kate Chopin's works, I can understand her "Courageous Soul" concept. Taking the risks of being exposed to criticism, authenticity, and integrity are all part of the creative processes for any type of artist. Any artist being defined as working in any type of medium, whether that be writing to music to paint to architecture, etc. I specify that because even your architect has some artistry in the field since science and art do go hand in hand. That being said, building up courage often relies on trusting yourself and your own belief in your creative works.

I found that courage is necessary in general to be able to be oneself. Some of it was practical in wanting to become a better communicator and being able to connect with people better. While I sometimes make a statement with some of my work, I do sometimes have other works that are to help others grow as individuals. I try to leave people better than I found them.

Sean Taylor: I think it's both, at least for me. There will always be the courage of putting myself out there as a writer and finding readers to pick up what I'm laying down (so to speak). But I also believe that, as a friend reminded me today, all art is political, and well, we live in a time when art is under attack, particularly art that doesn't fit a strict and confining definition. Anything that goes beyond a conservative, backward ideal or takes a more critical look at United State politics and culture now seems to be suspect and suspicious and likely to be censored in the days to come, so the pushback is there to only create "safe" art. But I'm not that writer. 

Do you find that courage becomes more "old hat" and just part of your personality as a writer after a while, or do you still feel the butterflies when you put it out there for public consumption and critique?

Slicing the Pie: Art. Craft. Technique. Style.

Hey, writer types! For the next (next-next, actually) roundtable, let's talk about art, craft, technique, and style. For some these four words may be synonyms. For others, they may be different ways of slicing the same pie. For still others, they may have start differences between them. If you're familiar with my basic interview questions, you'll remember this one: "Where would you rank writing on the "Is it an art or it is a science continuum?" Let's all discuss that together, shall we?

What does art, craft, technique, and style mean to you? 

Paul Landri: Writing is absolutely an art. However much like cooking, if you don't have a technique for the dish, you'll find people spitting out your food into their napkins or feeding it to the dog.

I don't think I have a particular style, but if you read my work you'll see the influence of the old Del Rey Star Wars Novels are pervasive throughout my books. I cut my teeth on those books when I was in the 7th grade and that style of writing comes out a lot even after all these years and countless other novels I've read that have influenced my writing.

I'm very conversational in tone, as I am sure you can read here. I find it allows the reader ease of access. I feel like you can be verbose but only as long as your still engaging the reader and drawing them in.

Sheela Chattopadhyay: I would rank writing as both an art and a science, rather than keeping the continuum as a straight line. It's more of a circle with each moment of writing blending both art and science together in different proportions as needed. This is from my experience in other types of writing and communications over the years in different disciplines.

Bobby Nash: Art is the part that comes out of me naturally, I think. It’s the raw, creative part. Craft is the work. I work on getting better at my craft. Technique is how I handle the craft. These are the tricks and learned odds 'n ends. Style is how I merge art, craft, and technique.

Or I could be completely wrong. This is honestly the most thought I’ve put into these definitions ever.

Ef Deal: Dead honest here: I don't really know how to address the question so far as distinctions. I will say that craft deals with structure. Art deals with the methods you use to evoke a mood: the use of language and poetic devices, for example. Style has a lot to do with your own voice as you select your words. I have no idea how to define technique in this sense. Does it mean one's approach to crafting a story? Plotter or Pantser? No clue.

Globe Trotting (Writing Multiple Settings)

Let's talk about settings. Not setting, as in the singular, but settings, such as when you bounce your characters all over the place to tell your story. 

Do you have a sort of "master setting" you tend to use and then sprinkle it full of "little settings" such as how Batman's Gotham City has Crime Alley, the waterfront, etc.? How does this approach work for you?

Brian K Morris: My early work was peppered with planting the story in a spot and leaving it there until I came back to take it home for dinner.

Sheela Chattopadhyay: In my characters' running away from me stories that need fixing, it's all the same continent but different places. I hadn't tried for a bit more simplicity in that world because of how long the story was supposed to be. In my current one, it is within one house so far and that's been working for me.

Sean Taylor: The characters I create or co-create have a home setting. Rick Ruby has his seedy New York underbelly. Fishnet Angel had Los Angeles until she moved to Cristol City. Even then, they're not always there exclusively. Fishnet Angel has traveled to Egypt and to the Middle East in search of the ancient idol she needs. 

Some characters I write, including Golden Amazon, experience their stories all over the place. I've written her in Notre Dame, New York, and now Los Angeles. 

No. Not these Globetrotters.

When you need to bounce around the world with your characters, how do you determine that and how do you make it work as a writer? Do you continue to let a setting become a sort of de facto character in its own right (again, like Gotham for Batman or Los Angeles for Philip Marlowe)?

Sheela Chattopadhyay: In the series that needs fixing, it depended on the timing that the characters needed. In my current short story, it's still based on the timing and pacing. The setting itself is a factor, but I haven't really analyzed if it is at a de facto character level for the story. If it becomes a de facto character, I'm ok with that.

Sean Taylor: I try to work in the character and "voice" of a location, even for settings that are merely temporary or a sort of layover between the major parts of a book's story. For me, if a place doesn't say something specific about the characters or the story, then it's just a throwaway location and could have been anywhere, no a specific somewhere. 

Paul Landri: In Return of the Crimson Howl we made it a cross-country journey so we wouldn't have one setting until the ending. I like to add places I've been into my narrative. For example: Brattleboro, Vermont and Seaside Heights, New Jersey show up in the book. In the upcoming sequel a great deal of it takes place in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn at a bakery that existed in real life and owned by my grandparents (it's gone now but I'm resurrecting it in literary form). Book three will have about 3 different settings so to answer your question, I tend to bounce around until I find a spot to stay in for a while then move on.

Brian K Morris: For much of my current work, I have a setting of Raceway City, which serves as my Metropolis/Gotham City for many of my characters. For other works, I'll set it in real world locations (which means research since I've not been in many of them).

How does needing multiple settings work into your plotting and planning for your novel? Is it something that you have specific reasons for choosing each location or is it more relaxed than that? Give me an example from your work.

Sheela Chattopadhyay: In the stories that need fixing, each one is supposed to be novel length. That's why the fixing is going to need to happen. I chose to have multiple settings because of the plot being quite large of several interwoven characters trying to solve a problem and overcome a common enemy. Each location is often refuge from temporarily escaping th villain, learning something useful to them, and building another ally.

Give it a spin. C'mon!

Brian K Morris: The locations are mostly to disorientate the protagonist and give him/her one extra challenge. This works mostly because my stories tend to take place no less than forty years ago in a pre-GPS age. I also select locations with a bit of a mystique to them, to add to the mood and sense of isolation for the protagonist. For instance, what kind of story can I tell if it takes place in WW2's Paris, or Carnaby Street in 1964, or San Francisco as it rebuilt from an earthquake?

Sean Taylor: Rarely do my character jet around the world to multiple cities in a single work. That comes a lot from the kind of stories I grew up reading. Noir and Hard-Boiled stories danced from setting to setting within a single city, but rarely from city to city. Sci-fi sometimes jumped places, but never really culture to culture, and if it did, each new setting was central to the new culture and what the protagonist was learning about himself/herself/themself. I tend to do the same. The one time I have jumped around is on a novel I'm currently editing called Postcards of the Hanging. In it the main character, a trans women in the '60s who is a sort of spiritual P.I. must go all over Western Europe to stop a plot to use a dead man's blood to bring forth an ancient curse with the help of her hippy ghost assistant. That one was designed to be a globe-trotting adventure, and each city was chosen before of both historical need (something happened there that related to the story) and atmosphere and how it causes the heroine and/or assistant to react. 

Help! My Characters Hijacked My Story! (But Did They? Did They Really?)

We've heard it as writers over and over again: I was going in one direction, but my characters sent me in another direction. But... is that true? Can our characters really hijack a story from us? Let's ask the panel of experts and get to the bottom of this mystery. The game's afoot, Watson!

How secure are you in your plots when you begin writing a novel? Or a short story? Is one form more or less likely to be disrupted or redirected by a shift in characterization than the other for you?

Daniel Emery Taylor: I’m a screenwriter but in MOST cases, I have scenes and plot points but no finalized plot. I’m more of a free writer … just creating characters, putting them in situations, and letting things evolve naturally.

Sean Taylor: I'm the oddball type who will sit and drive and think on a plot for months before I commit to even beginning to put it on paper. I'm rarely a pantser. Like, almost never. No. Even rarer than that. I like to have a first direction in mind before I start typing. But I think I'm the odd man out for thinking that way. I do it for both longer stories and short stories. 

Because of that, I've never really been one to believe that my character honestly have any control over the story. I'm the writer, damn it, and I made them up. I may add details to their character as I write, but that's not them doing anything. 

HC Playa: As someone who started writing life as a strict pantser and then slowly shifted to some murky middle between pantsing and plotting, my plot is always up for negotiation 🤣. In general, I have specific story beats I want to hit, but if I find a better way or a more character-driven way to get there along the way, I make the changes. For me, novels have far more wiggle room for plot changes than short stories do. It isn't that I can't achieve character growth in short stories, but for me personally, I have to have a concrete beginning/middle/end and expected word count already in my head to tackle a short story. That former concrete planning on the front end tends to override character whims.

Sean Harby: I normally have an idea where I want the story to go, but even after I've done an 'Outline', I often alter things if the story seems better told another way. As far as one type more vulnerable to drastic changes, I would say my novels are less set in stone than my short stories or novellas.

Brian K Morris: I'm a plotter who doesn't look at his outline once the writing begins for the day. This way, inspiration can lead me to fresher modes of thought (or into dark alleyways where there's no escape, which has happened more than once). For the most part, I'm secure in the plotting, but will consider a better way as it occurs to me.

Maya Preisler: For me, sitting down to write is like a road trip. I know where I want to start and end, but I recognize my route may deviate because of roadblocks or because I found something cool I wanted to visit along the way and adjusted my course accordingly. In my experience, longer pieces of writing are more likely to be disrupted or redirected because they’re longer journeys so there are more opportunities for distraction.

Robert Freese: Not secure at all. It’s like a new day, I have no idea what’s going to happen next.

Dale Kesterson: I always know the key plot points of my mysteries (I don't want to have to actually SOLVE the thing on the fly 🙂 ) but there have been times when what I have in mind isn't right for one of my characters.

L. Andrew Cooper: I do a lot of pre-writing for novels, usually starting with notes about the lead characters and then developing them as I develop the plot outline, which will spawn more characters if/as needed. If characters are going to shape the plot, they’re usually going to do it at the outlining stage, so the plot is pretty secure when I begin the actual drafting. That said, in the novel I finished drafting, um, today, Alex’s Escape, the development of two characters and the relationship between them caused me to rework the outline, shrinking it by three chapters so I could change the trajectory toward a new ending and then add three more chapters to develop new concepts (I didn’t want to increase the book’s length if I could avoid it). So, my method doesn’t guarantee plot security. I do less pre-writing for short stories, so characters are more likely to turn a tale in unexpected ways, but they still don’t very often. As a side note, I don’t think characters have ever taken over during the drafting of a screenplay. A screenplay’s story beats are too exacting for me to leave much to chance before I draft.

Jamais Jochim: Yes, they can if you've written them well enough.

My short stories are more likely to survive intact, but only because there's less time for them to influence me.

Bobby Nash: Oh, I love this topic.

I start with loose plots. I know certain things that need to happen. I call these plot points signposts. Then, I set my character(s) off toward the first signpost, but let the characters dictate how I get there. Sometimes, this takes me down paths I hadn’t planned as the characters react to situations. Other times, I uncover wonderful character moments.

When you say your characters send you in a new direction, which of these meanings is closer for you? (a) I wasn't really planning anyway, so I just went with the flow (pantsed it). Or, (b) I had a solid plan in place, but the more I got to know my characters or the more they changed as I wrote them, I had little choice but to refigure my plots.

Daniel Emery Taylor: It’s a little of both. I oftentimes will have specific scenes or dialogue in mind that, as a character evolves and becomes more real, no longer feel authentic. This happens after casting, too … the actor will bring their own input and twist. This can also change the trajectory. We try to make the characters as real as possible and then listen to what they tell us.

Chris Riker: I trust my characters to steer clear of cliches and predictable plots.

Sheela Chattopadhyay: For the runaway projects, it was both a and b. However, the sidetracked parts were more characterization and trying to flesh out more of the world than I was wanting to. It was closer to a non-pulp style, so I'm thinking of rewriting it closer to a pulp style since that tends to be smoother relatively in the writing process.

Robert Freese: I’ve had characters that received an entirely new fate because I grew to love them.

Jamais Jochim: B, sorta: I let the characters change the plot a lot, but a good part of my original outline does survive. Albeit barely.

Bobby Nash: Of these two options, I’m closer to A, but really I’m more option C, which is a combination of A & B. Often, things will shake out in dialogue that makes me realize something important about the character or the plot. In one novel (no titles to avoid spoilers), the antagonist says something that made me realize that he was more involved with something that happened to the protagonist than originally planned. This was a big revelation, not only for the readers but for me because it wasn’t planned. This made the story better and the relationship between the two characters much more interesting.

In a short story, I had a pretty simple plot. Good Guy. Bad Guy. Victim. A couple of secondary characters. My plot was pretty straightforward since it’s a short story. I was writing the final act, where the good guy and bad guy meet face-to-face for the first time. As they are talking to each other, I realized that the bad guy wasn’t the “real” bad guy of the story. That’s when another spoke up and the story went from straightforward to one with an interesting twist that made the story better. I went back to drop clues to the twist and was surprised to find that they were already there. The characters knew before I figured it out.

In a series, I planned a villain arc where the protagonist and antagonist would meet in book 1, then again around book 3, and then have a final showdown in book 6. In book 3, I killed the antagonist. It wasn’t planned, but it felt right for the series and the story. It also allowed another character to move up from a secondary or tertiary character to become the main protagonist. That character ended up being a better villain than the one I killed off early. A happy accident. Certainly not planned. Also, as with the previous example, the clues were already there. That character had been planning a coup all this time. I just didn’t know it yet.

L. Andrew Cooper: B

Brian K Morris: Definitely the latter. I will come up with quirks for the characters as they become more real in my mind. I won't surrender control to them, however, nor will I blame them for my digressions. I'm the one in charge and I'm where the story buck stops.

Maya Preisler: Neither? B is a bit closer. I usually have a plan but it tends to be a broad outline and I fill in the details as the story flows. For me, it’s less about getting to know my characters and more that even our best friends and closest relatives still possess the capacity to surprise us. Often when my characters make unexpected choices I find those decisions make perfect sense in hindsight, especially once I revisit their backstories.

Sean Harby: I'm not one to say the characters change the story. The story changes because I feel it's better told another way or feels more satisfying. I do try to get inside their heads as far as reactions to circumstances and dialogue, but the story determines how it unfolds. So ... sort of?

HC Playa: For me, it is a little of both. I write a mix of series and stand-alone stories. When it's a character I know really well I might just go with the flow b/c I can step into that character like a seasoned actor. When it is a new and unfamiliar character, it's usually me fleshing them out and realizing the idea I initially had doesn't match up with the character I have built so far. It's easier to change the plot a bit than to go back and rebuild the character.

Sean Taylor: If my characters ever redirect me, it's almost always because I didn't really know them well enough to build a plot around them yet. I jumped the gun, and they became better characters while I was writing, it was because I didn't pay attention when I should have been watching them (or creating them and figuring out who they were/are in the first place). 

How well do you know your characters when you begin a work? Do you think that it's only because they're becoming more fully fleshed out as you write that they're reshaping your plot? Have you experienced the opposite, where because you knew the characters inside and out, the plot was changed little because it was already based in character?

Bobby Nash: Character is key when writing this way. Knowing how a character reacts to certain things informs where your story goes. If you take 3 characters that you know well and drop them into the same plot, you will get three different stories because how those characters react and respond to the plot you put in front of them will be different based on who those characters are. These are “real” people to me. If I try to make them do something out of character then it feels wrong to me and to the readers. Have you ever read a book with characters you know well and thought “That character wouldn’t do that?” That’s what I try to avoid by trusting my characters. It doesn’t work without trust.

HC Playa: Oh absolutely. I rewrote my first novel about 5bazillion times. After 3 short stories and 3 novels, I know exactly how each of these characters is likely to act. I just finished a digest novel with a "bonus" story and am starting the final installation. I haven't quite worked out my plot yet, as I have just started, but I expect few deviations. I know how I want this series to end. I know the players. I know the various motivations and conflicts. All I have to do now is weave it all together.

Most of my short stories have gone precisely as I planned in part because I have the character and vignette set in my head before I ever put my fingertips to the keyboard.

Lucy Blue: For me, all the details of plot come from character. I have a situation going in, and I know who my characters are at a pretty deep level not because I plan it but because I just do. Character and dialogue are my superpowers as a writer; both just sort of happen for me. And from that comes plot.

Daniel Emery Taylor: They reshape the plot as they become more fleshed out, yes.

Sean Harby: I have a pretty firm grasp on the high points of my characters when I begin, but through writing them, I get to know them a little better. As I said above, the way I see them reacting does impact the story.

Sean Taylor: I tend to know them inside and out, at least in all the important ways that make the plot matter. I know what they want. I know what they're willing to do to get it. I know what will get in the way of them achieving that. And I know what it will cost them in terms of their soul to claw their way back to a second chance to achieve it when the first one (or few times) fails. I also know their major relationships to other characters and enough "job application" information about them to have the kind of minor details that make a character seem real and not just paper thin. 

Robert Freese: My relationship with my characters is like any friendship- the longer I hang out with them the better I get to know them. More times than not, I know all their strengths up front, it’s their vulnerabilities I discover as the story is written.

Maya Preisler: It depends on the work. For my longer pieces, I usually spend hours agonizing over the details of my character’s lives to really learn who they are. In my shorter pieces, the characters tend to spring from my imagination more fully formed. That’s a fascinating question. “More fully fleshed out” does seem like an accurate way to describe the process. From an internal perspective, there’s a sense of immediacy that occurs as I’m writing where it feels as if the character acquires a sense of agency and enough self-awareness to struggle against the plot. I have had that happen once, where I based the characters off of people I know and love so there were relatively few surprises in my plot. However, that’s only happened once.

Sheela Chattopadhyay: The current one that I'm writing is fairly secure. No one is trying to jump into a different storyline or genre yet. It's a short story, which is probably the difference.

The previous attempts have characters changing everything up, including time frames, and genre, and adding new characters whenever they can't solve something for their own amusement. I was aiming for a book for the other projects, so that might be part of it.

In my runaway projects, I would get to know them too well and they derailed my plots badly. On my current short story where I haven't paid any attention to word count and have been writing it on a typewriter, I had an idea of what I wanted to happen and of my characters. It's going smoother as I know less about my characters before I write.

Brian K Morris: A bit of both, but I know the broad strokes that make up the characters before I begin the actual writing. The little touches that make them more interesting often come to me as I flesh out the story.

L. Andrew Cooper: For novels, I usually know my characters very well before I begin drafting. They tend to live in my head for weeks, more often months, sometimes years, trying out different fantasy scenarios, before I pin down their details and try them out in a storyline. Therefore, I’m more likely to experience a plot that changes little because it was already based in character. For example, in my forthcoming novel Noir Falling, the central (perspective) character was loosely inspired by someone I knew 25 years ago, but I watched what I took from the real person grow and change dramatically before I put him on the page. By the time he got words, though, I knew what his character arc would be, an arc inseparable from the plot of Noir Falling. Of course, writing Noir Falling would have been impossible without a good map… I expect readers to find aspects of it dizzying… but no matter how surreal and seemingly random things get, it was all planned in advance. Characters for screenplays and short stories don’t tend to live in my head as long before I write them, but I still usually know them, flesh and all, before they appear on the page.

Jamais Jochim: I know them absolutely before I start writing, and then they show me things I just can't unsee. Some just say, "Nope."