Sunday Funnies: Concept of an Idea

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.

Sunday Funnies: Headaches

Sunday Funnies: Pockets!!! It has pockets!!

[Link] What's at Stake? Here's How You Find Out.

by Becca Puglisi

Stakes are a crucial part of your story because they define what will happen if the protagonist fails. To build reader empathy, you need this piece in place because when the reader sees what’s at stake, and they recognize why it matters to the character, the story becomes important. It matters. 

Stakes also create tension when the reader realizes what’s on the line. So when the stakes are referenced early on, readers are more likely to be drawn in and root for the character’s success.

But that empathy connection only happens if the reader can see what’s at stake. And that can only happen if the author knows what’s on the line. Sometimes, it’s obvious. What are the consequences if Sheriff Brody doesn’t catch the shark in Jaws? Death and dismemberment. In the original Inside Out, if all of Riley’s emotions aren’t acknowledged and won’t work together, her identity is at risk. 

But other times, it’s harder to identify what’s at stake in a story. So I’d like to share a simple method for figuring that out.

Read the full article: https://writersinthestormblog.com/2024/10/whats-at-stake-heres-how-you-find-out/

[Link] How to Portray Time and Memory in Stories

by Anita Felicelli

Time is a tremendously elastic concept, but if you think about it, almost all stories implicitly deal with time: They relate a temporal sequence of moments or events, rather than describing a single moment. But the relationship between time and stories is even more profound than that, I think. 

The author Joy Williams has observed, “What a story is, is devious. It pretends transparency, forthrightness. It engages with ordinary people, ordinary matters, recognizable stuff. But this is all a masquerade. What good stories deal with is the horror and incomprehensibility of time….”

The origins of my short story collection How We Know Our Time Travelers, which is about the oceanic “horror and incomprehensibility of time,” was my sense, after becoming a parent and learning to accept suffering serious illnesses, that time would not work the way I expected it would when I was younger, and instead would remain terrifyingly mysterious and slippery throughout the rest of my life. I could not quite grasp time when I thought about the concept too hard, and yet it was, perhaps, the hugest motivating force in my life. 

There was no linear progression, as many traditional children’s novels had taught—rather, there were layers of time, and within my single body were selves I was barely acquainted with any longer, and yet, given the right circumstances, I’d feel myself returned along the tides of memory to these points of time in which I’d existed as another self: The young storyteller who wrote about girls who couldn’t find their way home; the teenager who painted weird, surreal images on wood and casually gave them away to friends; a young college student drunk on newfound freedom and power; the baby lawyer who acted like a compassionate sixty year old while withering away; the newlywed who finally embraced the unpredictability of a life in books after years of trying on suits and predicting legal outcomes; the excited new mother, and, then, the older mother with illnesses coming to terms with decisions already made, moments that couldn’t be retrieved—and the heartache that followed.

Strangely, I became aware, in the course of thinking about my own ending, that my body also contained within in a range of futures—different places where the train might jump the track, distinct last stations. The body as a vehicle for past and future time travel. As I came to conceive of it in my book, time travel was an ordinary phenomenon that happened daily in the mind, even when least expected, triggered by sense memory and uncanny resemblances. While working on How We Know Our Time Travelers, I drew on the intuition that time allows every moment to coexist with other moments.

In the title story, for instance, a middle-aged artist holds an open studio at which she meets a young man who deeply, overwhelmingly reminds her of her now jaded and cynical gallerist husband, and who she comes to believe is her husband journeying forward in time to meet her. The story moves from her uncertainty about the empirical reality of who she’s seeing—to an alarming but slightly erotic certainty about the young man, whoever he is. With subtle shifts in sentence construction and word choice, I tried to frame the emotional reality of the story to create the feeling she has traveled back, or he has traveled into her present. But there is also the interpretation that she is insane. 

Read the full article: https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-fiction/how-to-portray-time-and-memory-in-stories

[Link] 5 Plot Hacks That Just Might Save Your Novel

by Susan DeFreitas

Plot issues are the number one reason people come to me—and people like me—for help with their creative work.

And I’ve shared that, most of the time, these issues really aren’t problems with plot at all. They’re problems with character arc.

That said, sometimes the problem really is the plot. Which is to say, sometimes the problem with a novel really is what happens in the story, the order in which it happens, and the way that it happens.

And for real problems of this nature, there are real solutions. Solutions that I have seen writers apply in revision that produce changes that feel nothing short of magical.

Struggling with the plot of your current work-in-progress? Maybe one of these tried-and-true solutions will do the trick for you.

1. Shorten the time frame

Some novels really just have to be big, sprawling epics that take place over a long period of time—perhaps even over generations. But most stories? Don’t.

If you have a novel that feels slow in places, a novel that chronicles a long period of time in the protagonist’s life, or a novel that chronicles a whole historical period, my best advice to you would be: See if there’s a way you can tighten the time frame overall.

Because when you tighten up the time frame, oftentimes those slow sections just somehow magically disappear. When events occur close together in time, you get a stronger sense of cause and effect even if one event isn’t leading directly to the next. For instance, maybe your protagonist is still angry from her conversation with the antagonist the day before when he talks to his love interest later that day. If a week passed between these interactions, it wouldn’t feel like there was any connection between them.

But when you tighten up the time frame, that second interaction might feel like it’s invested with a whole lot more tension, because of the residual emotional effects of the first one.

For a novel that chronicles a long period of time in the protagonist’s life, you’re almost guaranteed to strengthen the sense of storytelling if you focus in on a shorter time frame—say, a turning point time in the protagonist’s life, which will still allow us to imaginatively fill in what happens in that longer span of time without having to plow through hundreds of pages of it.

Read the full article: https://janefriedman.com/5-plot-hacks-that-just-might-save-your-novel/

Sunday Funnies: You've heard of the dramatic plot structures... Well...

 

[Link] Use a plot coupon to drive your story forward

by Rob Bignell

Among the tried and true devices you can use for moving a story forward is a plot coupon.

A plot coupon is something a character must obtain that later can be “cashed in” to resolve the overarching conflict so that the story may end. For example, in the ancient Greek myth Jason and the Argonauts, our hero and his valiant crew go in search fo the Golden Fleece, which once obtained will allow Jason to take his rightful place as king. The overarching conflict that began the story is that Jason must gain his rightful place on the throne, and the Golden Fleece is the plot coupon that allows him to achieve this goal. Once he is king, the story is over.

Seeking the coupon moves the plot forward. In Jason and the Argonauts, each adventure they go on centers on one element in the attempt to find the Golden Fleece. In each adventure, they may discover clues that help them find the Golden Fleece or they may suffer setbacks that must be overcome in “episodes” that follow.

Read the full article: https://inventingrealityeditingservice.typepad.com/inventing_reality_editing/2016/06/use-plot-coupon-to-drive-your-story-forward.html

This Week's Theme Is, Well, Theme

I know this opening paragraph isn't going to win me any fans in a blog about writing action-driven genre fiction, but I'm just going to write it anyway. I can't tell you how often I've heard fellow writers say in convention panels that they don't really think about or care about theme because they just want to tell a fun, action-heavy story that entertains a reader and leaves everything the same when it's over. Well, I cringe every time I hear that. I really do. 

Why? Because (1) it means those fellow creators don't really understand what theme actually is and (2) they're totally full of shit. 

Yes, I said it. 

Theme Is Historically and Contextually Important for Stories

I teach high school English in addition to writing, and our current unit is one about Short Stories and the art of small fiction. We've read Edgar Allen Poe, Ernest Hemingway, Alice Walker, Raymond Carver, Ambrose Bierce, and Louise Erdrich. Each of these writer's stories continues to resonate with readers because they say something and do more than just "pass the time." 

Now, just so you know, I'm not only referencing the kind of stories we read in English Lit classes, I am an avid reader of detective, horror, sci-fi, and pulp hero stories. The best of these genres too, in addition to wanting to tell a ripping yarn, also have themes that elevate them beyond just being fun, action-heavy stories that entertain. 

In fact, I'd go so far as to say the reason they can entertain in the first place is because they have something to say to the reader. Stephen King writes about childhood trauma carried into adulthood... a lot. Raymond Chandler writes about personal loss transmuted into public good. Walter Mosely writes about changing racial norms and trying to overcome them. Ray Bradbury writes about whimsy being the basis for both technology and horror. Stephen Donaldson writes about how our bad decisions play a great hand in determining what we think of as our fate. The Golden Amazon tells us about absolute power corrupting absolutely while The Spider tells us that sometimes fighting evil can taint us with some of that evil. 

Don't get me wrong, the trouble with much "Literature" with a capital L is that it has a lot to say but fails to entertain. However, that doesn't make the opposite a better, more honest option. It's equally a failure to write a story that entertains but fails to have something to say. Those stories (and trust me, I've read more than a few in old Pulp mag reprints) disappear from my brain almost immediately. 

It's the ones that do more that stick around, even if they're not the best written or the kind that gets anthologized in high school and college textbooks. Theme isn't about longevity. It isn't about your Literature class. It isn't about being discussed at author forums and writing conventions. It's about every story being itself. It's about every story, no, your story mattering to someone, anyone, a reader out there. 

Again, writing with a theme doesn't mean said theme has to be an indicator of high art. Some may. Some may not. But ultimate, for me, it gets down to this statement from Abbie Emmons: 

If we don't understand why what's happening matters to our characters, we don't know why it matters to us. 

(from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ot3jkbmBKsc)

I want to break that down into two parts. 

What Is Theme and Why Does It Work?

The first part of Emmons' statement is "why what's happening matters to our characters." That covers PLOT and STORY. Plot is exactly that, what's happening to our characters. Story is why it matters to them. Plot alone can't sustain a story, either novel or short story. It's why even bad horror movies usually involve a character trying to overcome some kind of trauma instead of a generic anybody (except when that's the central theme -- that it can happen to anyone) as a hero or most often final girl. The horror of the killer/ghost/monster is what enables them to process that trauma (loss of a kid, family member, sight, job, etc.) It's what is at stake beyond simply living and dying or beating the villain. It's that awesome marriage between plot and CHARACTER. Get those two together with a bottle of wine and some Wynton Marsalis, and trust me, soon you'll see a baby called story. 

Story then determines your THEME even if you're not planning it out on the front end of storytelling. It's this second part of Emmons' statement: "why it matters to us." 

This is where, I'll admit, a lot of the issues genre writers (particularly pulp writers) can have with theme begins. Theme usually involves change, or at least the opportunity to change, or failure to change. But, the argument goes, pulp heroes aren't supposed to change. That's the whole point of reading their stories. They have a fan base because they're consistent characters. 

I agree. There are certain things about certain characters that can't change, at least not permanently. Frank Fradella had a saying while I was Vice President of Cyber Age Adventures/iHero Entertainment that went like this: "Don't blow up Cleveland; we're going to need that later." 

This works to the benefit of some characters, particularly those who can face their flaws, traumas, and issues and still refuse to change no matter the pressure they face. Batman often faces the need or desire to kill the Joker, and the theme of that story is not whether he actually will or not, but how he walks that tightrope. That can be compelling every time even though the reader knows there's no way Bruce is going to pull the trigger. 

On the other hand, this works to the detriment of some characters, particularly those who are perfect and have no flaws or struggles, no matter the pressures or issues they face. It's the one reason I've never been a fan of Doc Savage. I don't mind that he is physically perfect and always wins, but he never struggles with anything. He never faces any failure in his past or present. He never struggles with emotional baggage. And rarely does his support cast. They can be as flat as cardboard cut-outs. 

I know, if you didn't tune out at the first paragraph, that comment about Doc Savage just sent many of the rest of you running for the hills. 

I present Superman as a counter to the good Doc though. Although Clark is the pinnacle of physical perfection and the sheer embodiment of American values of mom, baseball, and apple pie, he still struggles. He knows that his superheroic identity puts those he loves in danger, so he fights to keep it secret, which can screw up his everyday life (with work, with Lois, etc.). He also faces doubt when his choices for winning don't include an "American values" option. How does a man with a perfect record choose between two bad options and then live with the consequences? Those are great Superman stories. Of course, the best Superman stories figure out a way to choose neither but it doesn't come easily, hence "why what happens matters to the characters" is still a part of the story. The theme of trying to remain true to your own nature is also a theme. But without a conflict that forces that theme, a hero like Doc Savage never changes for different reasons than Superman. 

Note: Maybe this happens in other Doc Savage novels, but in the several I've read before I gave up, Doc Perfect is never allowed to have a flaw or less-than-perfect choice to confront.

What Isn't Theme?

I hope you didn't miss this sentence just a few paragraphs above: "Story then determines your theme." Theme is always an organic outgrowth from your story. Now, remember, story isn't plot. Story is plot and character working together to make the plot matter. 

That's why many writers who may not consciously write with a theme in mind tend to have them show up by nature of the kind of characters they write, the kind of stories they tell, and the kind of outcomes that happen in those stories. As most writers know, it's a difficult thing to keep yourself out of your stories -- and not just in a Mary Sue or Marty Stu way. The beliefs that have guided you through life, the ideals to which you ascribe, the politics you try not to discuss at Thanksgiving -- all of that stuff seems to find a way to seep into your work as if it escapes through your fingertips as you type. (Hell, maybe it actually does. That's as good an explanation for it as any other I've seen.)

If you can't find it yourself, and you're any writer worth your storytelling salt, don't worry. Astute readers will find it for you. Even if you're one of the writers I was talking about in the first paragraph. You still end up writing variations on a theme, and the sum total of your body of work will shine a spotlight on it. Just be warned, sometimes those themes may not say the kind of things you want to be said about your writing. (Such as women only exist for saving and men who don't punch their way out of trouble aren't real men, but that's an essay for another day.) 

Nor is a theme a moral. We're not talking about fables or allegories when we talk about theme. Yes, the best of those still have themes. You can't turn a page in Lord of the Rings, A Swiftly Tilting Planet, or even "The Little Match Girl" or "The Ugly Duckling" without bumping into theme. But the moral isn't the theme. Themes can lead to lessons as we confront things about ourselves as readers, as writers, as critics, etc., but the lesson itself is never the theme. 

So, all this to say: Don't be afraid of the concept of your story having a theme. Don't be afraid to talk about it or bring it up at convention panels. And for god's sake, don't think that decrying the concept of theme from your position behind a table or podium at a conference or convention makes you somehow more honest than other writers. That's about as honest as being an ironic hipster. If your work resonates with someone, you have a theme that reader has identified and identified with -- even if you didn't intentionally approach the work with a theme as you pantsed your way through writing. 

Yes, I acknowledge that even Doc Savage has a theme that folks resonate with. I see my own hypocrisy just fine, thank you. (LOL). 

To paraphrase Aerosmith: Theme on, theme on, theme on, theme until your writing dreams come true! #sorrynotsorry

Sunday Funnies: Flame On!

 

[Link] How to outline a novel in five steps

by Desiree Villena

When you set out to drive somewhere new, you don’t just hit the road and hope you’ll make it there eventually. You look up directions and establish a route to get you from point A to point B. The same logic should be applied to writing a novel — just deciding one day to sit down and write a book might work for a handful of “pantsers,” but for most of us, such a big achievement can only be accomplished by setting course before we take off.

In this post, we’ll break down the five key elements of outlining a novel, using The Wizard of Oz as an example throughout.

Read the full article: https://darlingaxe.com/blogs/news/outline-a-novel-in-five-steps

Motivational Monday: Vonnegut's Story Shapes

 

The ABC (Plots) of Ongoing Storytelling

Writing an ongoing story is a different animal than writing a stand-alone novel or short story. And it's not as simple as "What's the next big story?" How do you keep your whole cast of characters involved, including supporting cast? How do you build up to new stories without just pulling them out of the air? And how do you keep readers wanting to stick with every new story, whether novel in a series, comic book issue, or sequence of short stories? 

Well, it's as difficult at ABC. 

Wait, don't I mean as easy as ABC? Oh, I wish I did. 

This is one of the toughest lessons any writer can devote himself, herself, or themself to. This is the kind of narrative goodness that keeps a series from being one stand-alone after the other that allows readers to skip out on a few steps (losing you cash from book and comic sales). This is the art part that makes readers have to stick around for the long haul. 

The best ongoing narratives have done this well for years without every showing off the mechanics off it. (Perhaps that's why so many folks are unaware of this type of storytelling, because it was so invisible to the reader/viewer.)

Soap operas. 

Yes, those soap operas. 

But we'll get in to that shortly. Let's get to a few definitions for now:

A Plot -- your main narrative story for the current book or issue or episode

B Plot -- the secondary, just below the surface plot that can and should complicate the A Plot (and in some cases become the new A Plot for the next book or issue or episode)

C Plot -- the more subtle, often reserved for the support cast story that can keep your minor characters busy will still having some bearing on future A Plots or even interactions with the current A Plot. 

Got those definitions? Good. Let's get down to brass tacks. 

Do I really need B and C Plots?

The simple answer is no, you don't. James Bond has gone on for years without B and C Plots that unify the series. So have pulp heroes like Doc Savage and The Shadow. 

But, more and more, contemporary series are looking to unify their novels with multi-layered plots that form the glue between books. (Look no further than the ongoing romance between Hermione and Ron in Harry Potter or the build up to the season finale in shows like Wayward Pines and In the Dark. And if you're looking to write an ongoing comic, then it's a skill you'll definitely need to master. (Peter David's legendary run on Hulk and Aquaman are prime examples of this kind of storytelling done super-effectively.)

A typical example from the past has been to let the B plot graduate to the next A plot when that one resolves (for example, at the end of the novel or comic book issue or arc). Then the C plot graduates to a new B plot. And finally a new C plot is introduced. 

For example, P.I. Samantha finds the killer (A plot), but her new lover (B plot) is found beside a dead body, and she must determine and prove her innocence. Meanwhile, that pesky noise she heard on her phone line (C plot) does indeed turn out to be a wire tap that she must look into while trying to save her lover. And so on and so forth. 

But, as I said, that's just the typical pattern of the past. Many modern writers are switching up this paint by numbers formula by doing all kinds of cool change-ups. 

• Letting the C plot skip the B plot and letting the B plot simmer for another issue, arc, or novel.
• Having the C plot resolve along with the A plot and introducing a new one for the next story. 
• Bumping the B down to a C to create a sort of "plot red herring." 

However, a failure to be consciously aware of and intentionally working your varying plot levels can and will cause your stories to seem disjointed, linked only by a consistency of character, but not story. That doesn't mean your books won't sell -- look no further than 007 or thousands of pages of pulp stories. 

But, if you want to give your readers a special reason to keep reading, it's perhaps best not to expect to come fresh each time. A caveat, just like with classic comic writing, you'll need to be able recap in a subtle way to bring new readers up to date, but if you can do that while giving your ongoing readers an enhanced story experience, then that's a win-win for both you and the regular reader. 

A strong example of this is Kim Harrison's The Hollows series. The romantic subplots weave from novel to novel, and characters who were allies can become enemies and back again. Any reader can begin with any novel, but the reader who began at the first will have a deeper immersive experience into the lives of the character her, she, or they have come to know (and maybe even love).

What if I'm not the only writer on a series?

Well, I'm glad you asked. That's when a strong story bible comes into play. My best stories written for others have been those properties that provided a detailed story bible for me to build from. 

A detailed story bible includes (at the very least):

• the biographical history and likes dislikes of the main character
• the biographical history and likes/dislikes of the key secondary characters
• a cursory look at the history of the tertiary characters as it pertains to the main character (and possible key secondary characters)
• key regular locations and how they relate to the key characters
• any ongoing relationship entanglements, romantic or platonic
• any ongoing traumas or issues in the lives of the main and key secondary characters for contributing writers to build from

Now, that's just a start. And to be fair, I've received story bibles with all this and much more than I would ever need, but I've also received story bibles with hardly anything I really needed other than a description of the character and choice or weapons. 

But, hopefully, can see how a detailed story bible can help keep all contributing writers working together to tell the same ongoing story instead of separate, unrelated "Elsewords" tales. 

So, don't be afraid to ask for a story bible. And be a bit leary of anyone who doesn't have one handy (unless there is already a strong body of work to show off this info). 

Examples from my work 

Rather than just talking out of my... um, hat, I'll provide few examples from my own stories. 

When I wrote for Lance Star Sky Ranger 4, it was a character I didn't not know or own, so I grew dependent on the info I could get from Bobby Nash, who owned the character. Thankfully, Bobby provided lots of detailed story info, and was open to me bringing in new elements into the work. He allowed me to introduce a femme fatale into Lance's narrative, and each story I've written with Lance, I've included her because they have an ongoing story together the other writers can also reference. Each story builds on the subplot introduced in the first story where I make it clear that she has her eyes set on Lance. Eventually, Monique San Diablo's grandchild will feature in some of the new contemporary based stories I'm working on. 

Rick Ruby of The Ruby Files has one of the most detailed story bibles I've ever put together, because Rick's world is so "nexus-y." He is the intersecting point of so many worlds that it required more detail to keep it straight. In that story bible, Bobby Nash (Rick's co-creator) and I outlined his relationships with the four women in his life (an informant, a society girl trying to get him to settle down, his secretary, and his true love than can never be thanks to race relations in the 1930s), and his past with the police and those on the other side of the law. That way, each writer who has fully read the story bible can come in anywhere and build on those stories. On way Bobby and I keep those stories fluid but locked is by (1) only allowing the two of us to make major changes and (2) keeping the story bible updated as significant changes occur.

Fishnet Angel is the closest prose example to ongoing comic book scripting I have (other than my actual comic book scripting of course). In her first story, I introduce Andi (FA's girlfriend). When Mark has to become Fishnet Angel in order to save her, the real story begins. In the second Fishnet Angel tale, Mark (now Marcia) and Andi are having some issues, and he's tired of being treated like the super heroine he now is. Letting that build from an C-plot to and B-plot occurs in the third story, where Fishnet Angel is captured by a villain and must determine how to save Andi again in spite of their clearly crumbling relationship. To fulfill a prophecy, the hero discovers that she is pregnant by a fellow deity from the time she was kidnapped. The next story jumps to the future where FA is visiting a former friend turned priest to get some kind of closure and determine who he/she is now after all this. The next story jumps to the future, after she has given her child to Andi and her new husband to raise as their own in order to prevent the prophecy from coming true. Rife and B and C plots, I tell you. 

Putting it all together

Let's put all this into practice in a real world example. We'll make a quick, little "Mad Libs" here to help us:

Book One

Genre: Cozy Mystery

Main Character: Jeannie Davenport, a retired investigative journalist

Regular Cast: Doug Davenport, her ex-husband; Granger Hoffner, her "assistant" helping her re-organize all the mess left over after the divorce; Sophia Albright, her grand-daughter who is pursuing her own career in journalism

A-Plot: Granger finds the dead body of his landlord in his apartment and needs Jeannie's help to prove his innocence. 

B-Plot: Doug is ramping up a new lawsuit to get more money since she was always the primary breadwinner in their family. 

C-Plot: Sophia thinks there's something creepy at her college with the trustees in charge of scholarship funding. 

Obviously the bulk of the plot and the action will be centered around Jeannie looking for clues and trying to prove Granger's innocence and find the real killer. In the middle of all that, once the killer finds out she's onto him/her/they, he/she/they begin to target Jeannie and those near her. 

While all this is going on, Jeannie gets called into her attorney's office to learn that Doug is opening a suit to get more money from her. He's not happy with the settlement as is. This further complicates her life and add even more stress to her as a target. 

Meanwhile, just every now and then, we see small conversations between Sophia and and Jeannie where Sophia is asking for advice about how to proceed to look into improprieties regarding scholarship mismanagement. 

In the end, Jeannie solves the mystery. The true killer is revealed, and everyone is safe. But, it looks like Doug's case is stronger than Jeannie could have guessed, and she could be looking at a large loss. 

Book Two

Regular Cast: Introducing Brad Trent, Sophia's new boyfriend from college

A-Plot: While at court for a pre-hearing on the suit, Jeannie runs into a friend who is working for the opposing attorney. Two days later, the friend is found dead. Her lover wants to get Jeannie to look into the murder because she thinks someone at the law firm did it. But she must remain secretive or it could affect her defense if it is learned she's investigating the opposing firm for murder.

B-Plot: Sophia enlists the aid of her new boyfriend, Brad, who is at college on a basketball scholarship. Brad agrees to help her. 

C-Plot: Doug learns he has cancer and must soon enter chemo. 

Obviously the bulk of the plot will be Jeannie, Granger, and Sophia sneaking around to look for clues and keep anyone from finding out. But the more Sophia and Brad look into the scholarship mishandling, the more it looks like someone is using the funds to launder money. Meanwhile, Doug's sickness is causing him to reconsider his anger toward Jeannie because he will need her since she's still the closest "family" he has. 

Jeannie solves the crime. The court case about the divorce is pushed until after Doug's chemo. But Brad and Sophia have started to receive threats. Doug has his first chemo with Jeannie (she's a saint, I tell you) by his side. 

Book Three

The former C-Plot from Book 1 finally graduates. Brad is run off the road and lies in a coma. Jeannie, Sophia, and Granger believe it was attempted murder and investigate. Doug's chemo makes him rely on Jeannie even more, and the two feel they are becoming close again (though she fears it's just his weakness and need for her). 

And so on, and so forth. But you get the point. 

Got it?

There you have it, but as I said at the beginning, it's not easy -- it's difficult. It's difficult because these aren't just plug and play subplots. Your readers will see anything that doesn't feel important quicker than you can write it, and they'll wonder why you're ignoring the real story of your novel, comic, or series of novellas. And you'll also have to make it feel natural in the scope of the main story. It's a great way to give your minor cast members something crucial to do before the B or C plots actually find your main character(s). 

I've long said that writing and storytelling is more art than science, and it's just these kind of skills that have convinced me of that. But never fear. With practice and with reading authors who manage their subplots well, keep at it and you'll be a master of that art before you know it. 

A Matter of Pantsing -- How Do You Outline?

What kind of outlining technique (for those of you who are plotters) do you use to plan out your novel? Note cards? Old-fashioned number and letter outline?

Rory Hayfield-Husbands: Coming up with ideas for each scenario and then discussing it with like minded people.

Anna Grace Carpenter: When I outline (which is not all the time) I use the index card method. Those are then transferred/typed into a doc that serves as my first draft. As I write the chapters that cover each scene I delete the plot points out of the outline until there are none left - just the manuscript. (But, I also use outlines more for sequels or revisions now than the initial first drafts of first books.)

Jonah Mason: The best method I know is to outline the story in a couple of paragraphs, hitting the high spots in a prose way. It's not technically an outline, more of a "treatment," like you might do for a script.

Jeremy Hicks: A mix of methods. I was using a legal pad and note cards today, actually.

Pamela Turner: I use Scrivener's index cards to outline. I use regular index cards, too, but at least with Scrivener, I can read my notes. :-)

Gordon Dymowski: I just use paper (a notebook or legal pad) and pencil - my outlines are usually in bullet point form. (I'm not too pedantic about format - the outline is there for me to organize ideas)

Brian K. Morris: I start out with an elevator pitch for the basic story, add an ending (that I will likely change at least once as I write), then flesh out the story using the Lester Dent Master Plot as my guide before working on the first draft.

Percival Constantine: I don’t have a consistent method. Sometimes I’ll use a mindmapping program to focus, other times I’ll scribble in a notebook, but it usually ends with scene descriptions in Scrivener’s notecards.

James Palmer: I just write them out in Scrivener. I figure out my plot points, then do a scene outline, one chapter per scene.

Janice Elliott: Howard I use a mind map software. It is called Free Mind and it can be found online for free. Because the human brain is not designed to organize our thoughts in a linear fashion as we are taught throughout our schooling, this method improves recall and next steps easier. I can honestly map out an entire book using it.

Bill Craig: I don't normally outline unless it is going to be a lengthy project, and then I used the number and letter method that I learned in school.

Mike Baron: Detailed outline.

Sarah Lucy Beach: Writers Blocks computer program. It allows me to shuffle elements around if necessary.

Alison Marceau: Depends on if I have the story completely mapped out, I've used notebooks to just summarize, maybe write a snippet or dialogue so I don't forget it or that will remind me. Key words and the like.

I'll also do separate notes for research and character details.

GoogleDocs is awesome for all of it.

There are also "writer's guide" apps, too, that help you keep track of the details and outlines and settings. I have them downloaded but haven't used them yet, though.

Neen Edwards: Note 8... I have a lot of saved sticky notes.

Matt Hiebert: Outlines of each chapter.

Ian Totten: First I do a quick outline to get an order for all the important things, then I do a detailed chapter by chapter outline that runs 30-40 pages.

Duane Spurlock: I do about ten bullet points and typically start ignoring them by the time I hit the third or fourth.

The bullet points make a perfectly good plot. It just seems, as I get a little ways into the story, I want to be entertained and surprised by it, just as if I'm reading it, not writing it. I think that helps the spontaneity that we want to come across to the readers as they experience the story.

Derrick Ferguson: I admire writers who have every detail, every twist and turn of the plot/story figured out before they type Word One, but that doesn't work for me. If I know everything about the story then what's the point of me writing it?

I like to leave plenty of wiggle room to surprise myself with the direction that the story and the characters take because I figure that if it surprises me and I'm writing the damn thing then it sure as shootin' will surprise whoever ends up reading it.

Jason Waltman: Note cards are you friends

Mark Bousquet: I've got a journal where I jot down whatever thoughts come to mind about the stories and characters and events. Sometimes I'll write dialogue exchanges. Scenes. Notes to myself about where to keep my focus. I'll create pressure diagrams. Usually I'll end up rewriting and reworking and refining the main story as I work through this, then get to a narrative outline, often broken down into acts or movements.

Josh Duke: Ive found that if I write out an outline I lose the drive to flesh it out.
I take notes, i jot down key dialogue to remind me of a direction or scene- but I just let it grow as it will. Ive found if I do that, I inadvertently end up creating complex connections and story threads I didnt expect to.

Danielle Procter Piper: I know where it begins, I know where it ends, but the journey to the last part often surprises me.

[Link] Every Story in the World Has One of These Six Basic Plots

by Miriam Quick

“My prettiest contribution to the culture” was how the novelist Kurt Vonnegut described his old master’s thesis in anthropology, “which was rejected because it was so simple and looked like too much fun”. The thesis sank without a trace, but Vonnegut continued throughout his life to promote the big idea behind it, which was: “stories have shapes which can be drawn on graph paper”.

In a 1995 lecture, Vonnegut chalked out various story arcs on a blackboard, plotting how the protagonist’s fortunes change over the course of the narrative on an axis stretching from ‘good’ to ‘ill’. The arcs include ‘man in hole’, in which the main character gets into trouble then gets out again (“people love that story, they never get sick of it!”) and ‘boy gets girl’, in which the protagonist finds something wonderful, loses it, then gets it back again at the end. “There is no reason why the simple shapes of stories can’t be fed into computers”, he remarked. “They are beautiful shapes.”

"Thanks to new text-mining techniques, this has now been done. Professor Matthew Jockers at the University of Nebraska, and later researchers at the University of Vermont’s Computational Story Lab, analysed data from thousands of novels to reveal six basic story types – you could call them archetypes – that form the building blocks for more complex stories. The Vermont researchers describe the six story shapes behind more than 1700 English novels as...

Read the full article: http://www.bbc.com/culture/story/20180525-every-story-in-the-world-has-one-of-these-six-basic-plots

[Link] Outlining Your Future Book in 30 Minutes

by Becca Puglisi   

To plot or to pants? That is the question—one with as many different answers as there are writers. As an avid plotter, the idea of pantsing gives me the heebie-jeebies, but I understand that my over-the-top planning would probably make other writers break out in hives. That’s why I’m happy that Lesley Vos is here to share a quick outlining method that pretty much anyone could use to lay the framework for their story.

We all have a story in us, and the day comes when we feel ready to share it with the world. But writing is hard. It’s often a challenge more than a pleasant pastime. One of the reasons for this is a lack of planning.

Some fiction writers believe that creativity and imagination are enough to take them where they need to go, that if they allow the characters to live their own lives, they result will be a highly readable book. And this does work for a small number of writers. But in many cases, a few weeks or months go by, and neither the authors nor their characters know where the story’s going.

Outline your fiction or nonfiction book project in just thirty minutes.Things work a little differently with nonfiction writers, who seriously plan their books before they’re written. This planning can help fiction authors, too, saving them time and energy and preventing plot and character mishaps, along with writer’s burnout.

Whether you write fiction or nonfiction, for those of you who aren’t too keen on planning, I’d like to share my plan for outlining a story idea in just thirty minutes.

Read the full article: http://writershelpingwriters.net/2018/03/outlining-your-future-book-in-30-minutes/

Nugget #119 -- The Infinite Short Story

Short stories don’t always have a clear beginning or end. 

Just as the best short stories begin after the beginning, 

they also end before the expected ending.

[Link] Plot twist ideas: 7 examples and tips for twists

by Now Novel

A good plot twist adds intrigue, suspense or surprise to a novel. Plot twists are particularly popular in suspense-heavy novels such as murder mysteries, because they prolong suspense-creating questions about cause and identity. Read 7 examples of effective plot twists and what they teach us:

First, a brief plot twist definition

A plot twist is ‘an unexpected development in a book, film, television programme’ (Oxford English Dictionary).

Plot twists are particularly popular in short stories. In many stories they are the main event of the story arc. For example, in Roald Dahl’s classic short story ‘Lamb to the Slaughter’, Mary Maloney kills her husband with a frozen leg of lamb. The dark-humoured twist is that Mary serves detectives investigating her husband’s disappearance the evidence.

Authors like O. Henry and Edgar Allan Poe perfected the art of the ‘twist-in-the-tale’ story. In these stories, the plot twist (like in Dahl’s story) is the climax. Yet plot twists are also popular in longer narratives.

Here are seven plot twist tips and ideas...

Read the full article: http://www.nownovel.com/blog/plot-twist-ideas-7-examples-tips/

[Link] Story plots: 7 tips to be more original

Clichéd story plots weaken an otherwise good story, a story where characters and settings are vivid. To tell a story that feels original and inventive, it’s key to learn plot clichés to avoid. Yet many original stories do use common tropes. The key is to make famous story types and scenarios your own:

1: Know common plot clichés within your genre

In story plots, clichés are frustrating because they’ve been hollowed out of their dramatic impact through overuse. Dragons that go on rampages overpopulate fantasy worlds. Women in distress who need men to save them overpopulate romance novels.

Here are a few more common plot clichés:

• The chosen one: A character has been selected for a task but there’s no backstory or explanation why only this person in particular is capable
• It was all a dream: Strange things happen but turn out to be dreams (often solving plot complications a little too conveniently for the author)
• Representative of another culture gives clueless protagonist profound wisdom: Another example of a common plot cliché, especially in books from earlier times that either romanticized indigenous people or portrayed them as savages (this example courtesy of Strange Horizons)
• In each of these examples, there is either a cop-out or an overused trope (a ‘trope’ is a literary device that occurs across multiple novels by various authors).

In the first example, there is nothing to explain what is so special about ‘the chosen one’. J.K. Rowling avoids the cliché of ‘the chosen one’ in Harry Potter by giving Harry a past link to the villain that explains exactly why it is he in particular who must fulfill the challenge.

In the ‘it was all a dream’ plot, there is always a risk of a cop-out. The revelation that characters have been dreaming can seem too trite or tidy an explanation for bizarre or puzzling events.

The third example is a plot point rather than an entire story idea. But it tells something valuable about being original: It’s better (for creative as well as political reasons) not to simply repeat received, dominant ideas. Stereotypes are the footmen of unoriginal stories and dangerous politics. The ‘exotic’ foreigner (or indigenous other) is likely to be just as full of flaws and folly as a protagonist.

Read the full article: http://www.nownovel.com/blog/story-plots-original-7-tips/