Writing Character: The Lies that You Believe

I've spent a lot of time reading in the past few months. I've gotten back into the Game of Thrones Series, and I re-read Agatha Christie's "And Then There Were None". Between them and watching Downton Abbey, I wound up thinking a lot about character in writing.

Building believable characters means they have to be more than just props to fuel a plot, even side characters have to be more than a two dimensional trope filling space around the hero. I'm not saying they have to be perfect, but quite the opposite, they have to be imperfect in a way that sets them apart from a casually contrived paper doll. They have to have motivations that fuel their actions, and believable reactions to their situations.

One thought that I've been focused on a lot in the past few weeks as I look at the characters I want to write, and characters others have written, is that deep down, almost everyone lies to themselves. It's a perfectly human coping mechanism.

Some lies are altruistic, "I know I can save the princess!" He cannot possibly KNOW that, and if your reading something like Game of Thrones he'll more likely die, horribly, than succeed. He's lying to himself to build confidence and faith in himself and his mission.

Other lies are more destructive, "I had to kill him! There was no other way! I'm not a cold blooded murderer!" This clearly paints a character desperate to reconcile their actions with their own guilt, or the judgment they know they'll face from another. Even the character himself doesn't really believe his words, and that insecurity and desperation can easily creep into their actions causing them to be reckless or unnecessarily judgmental.

As a reader, we have the unique perspective to look at a characters entire path, from beginning to end. Even as the character chooses not to believe a gristly truth, or they convince themselves of a more optimistic future, we as the reader can see. Sometimes the imminent danger is so obvious to us, from our view, that we can't help be shout, "Can't you see he's lying to you!" or "Don't! It's a trap!". Yet within the narrative, the character instead embraces those comfortable lies and falls headlong into peril.

A truly good book keeps you reading even if you've become furious at the character for what they've chosen. Even if you hate the character for becoming the opposite of what you hoped or expected, you may still find yourself reading, turning the page, and going even further. Ultimately we find it hard to walk away from characters that are real, characters who believe in certain truths, and believe in certain lies because we want to know how they evolve from what they are.

The worst thing you can do is create a character that is flat, boring and without depth. That character might not anger anyone with their choices, but they won't win any devotion either. Two dimensional characters are not real, so we don't care if they get thrown away. If you want anyone to care about your characters plight, they need to have a depth that is relatable. They have to think, they have to feel, they have to lie.

So what lies does your favorite character believe?

News from the Book World! And Don't Pirate books!

       Apparently writing a blog is not something you can easily fake. It requires, you know, actual writing. Planning and editing and all that stuff. So while I'm mired between family birthdays, random school holidays for my child, and the occasional spontaneous illness, I'm just going to pass along more exciting news from other authors in case you missed it.
       
       First up is a BIG announcement I'm REALLY excited about. The fantastic Seanan McGuire has a NEW book coming out in 2014. This is in addition to the Toby and the InCryptid books. Seanan writes awesome urban fantasy with strong female protagonists who are completely real and still utterly bad-ass. This new book she's announced follows that theme, and it's my absolute favorite: Sparrow Hill Road.
       I read the first 'version' of this novel when it was published online, Seanan says it's been edited and improved with new content and I cannot wait to get my hands on it. It's the story of a hitchhiking ghost who lures truckers to their death... At least, that's one story they tell about her. The real story of Rose Marshall is much more complex, and tragic than those poor truckers could imagine.
      It's a fantastic tale of the open highways and of the ghosts who ride the roads. It has a haunting feel of a classic fifties ghost story. Even as Rose travels the roads of the modern day, the strains of the jukebox and the smell of the malt shop seem to cling to her. It's ethereal and real all at the same time. I love it, and I cannot wait to buy my copy.
For more details get the facts straight from Seanan at her blog here. Rose Owls and Pumpkin Girls

      Keeping with the 'books coming sometime down the line' my buddy Chuck Wendig has announced that his previously indie-published (And Kick Starter-ed) books in the Atlanta Burns series, "Shotgun Gravy" and   "Bait Dog". I confess I've not (yet) read them, but I'm always excited to see good authors come to print. Atlanta Burns is a teenager, and these books are going into the Young Adult market, so if you've read Blackbirds and are expecting more of the same here... No, they aren't the same. Chuck's also been contracted to write a third Atlanta novel to add to the set, loosely titled 'Frack You', and I can't wait to see what he comes up with. More details are readily available on Chuck's blog, Terrible Minds.

   Now, February 6th, is the new Official "Don't Pirate My Book" day for authors.

    I periodically rant about the writing/publishing business. It's my dream to someday be shouting out "Hey! Buy MY book!" but it's a dream I approach realistically. I had my eyes opened some years ago to the not so glamorous truth about writing. Writing, even writing successfully, does not make you rich. Yes, there are always exceptions to this rule, but it's a fools errand to believe "I'm going to be the next JK Rowling!".
      No, you probably won't be. Not that you should give up on writing, because daddy always said you should go to business school and get a real job. It just means that realistically, especially in genre fiction, you are going to have to work much harder and longer to become lucrative.
     So don't look at writing as a 'gold mine', or an 'easy job'. Writing has a lot more in common with running your own business. You become your own boss, which can be great, but means you are personally liable for your success or failure. No one else will make you work. No one else can make you improve. If you don't work, and work hard, and work often, your writers cart will sit mired in the mud of obscurity and no one will notice you.
      Yes, I'm probably being very dour about the whole thing, and it may sound like I'm just trying to rain on your dreams. That's not it. I'm trying to dispel a myth. The myth that writers are worshiped as gods, gold flows from their fingers and once you get published all the money will rain down on you. No. Not happening.
     The reason I wish I could stand on my soapbox and shout this to the world, is because so few people grasp the reality of a writers living wage and a writers lifestyle, so they think it's fine to pirate ebooks. IF they even give a thought to the author it's along the lines of "they're so rich, who cares?" This lie makes starving writers cry.
    Now internet file-sharing, copyright infringement, DRM licensing  and the notion of copying and sharing all sorts of 'files' for free is a muddy water. I can understand the frustrations and desires that fuel piracy, really I CAN. I don't even have CABLE. Do you know how LONG it takes to see the next season in a current series on Netflix? But that's a different rant. Basically, I'm not going to wade in and make a bunch of dogmatic statements... I'll just link you to everyone ELSE's authors blog and let you read what THEY have to say on the matter.
     Suffice to say, my choice, for me, is ALWAYS acquiring books legally. I enter giveaways (and I've won a few), I go to the library, I wait until books are in paperback and then buy them, and I use coupons. But I always get them legally. For me, it's not about me getting something, it's about me funding the author. If I steal a book, it's like I'm stealing from a guy I admire. That's my logic. I wouldn't break into an authors house and copy a manuscript off his computer, likewise, I'm not going to copy someone's file of an e-book. They need the sales, the need the sales NUMBERS, and thwarting the tracking system of book sales with shady deals makes kittens sad.

That bizarre rant concluded, I now direct you to some of our friendly neighborhood authors (they might not be that friendly, in fact, some may bite.) and what THEY have to say about internet piracy.

Chuck Wendig kicked the movement off, so we'll start with his post here at Terrible Minds. http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2013/02/06/why-i-hope-you-dont-pirate-my-book/ 

Seanan Mcguire wrote her take, so we should go back to her Blog too. http://seanan-mcguire.livejournal.com/493792.html

Dan O'Shea wrote a profanity flecked piece on his anti-piracy stance here. http://danielboshea.wordpress.com/2013/02/07/you-arent-a-pirate-youre-a-thief-asshole/

Those are the links I have now, I'll edit to add if I'm lucky to find more.

Finally, our moment of zen for the end of post. John Scalzi did something that I find in parts equally hilarious and inspiring, and if I had his means I'd totally do it too. In response to an internet troll using his name, he's now going to donate money, on behalf of the troll, to charities the homophobic, misogynistic, racist troll finds unappealing. Namely, Civil Rights, Gay Rights, and women's rights.
But don't take my word for it, read the whole awesome recap here at Scalzi's blog Whatever.
Tons of people offered to contribute as well, and it's now up to 60,000 dollars. Pretty cool right?

That's the news from my corner of the internet! Hope you enjoyed it.

A new post! Surprise!

Okay, glancing over my past blog entries, and this blog is starting to make me look bad. I mean look, all these promises and not nearly enough follow through. This blog is fast becoming the ink and cyberspace equivalent of "Top Gear" (UK). Ambitious... but rubbish.
(We're going to blame the blog for all of this. Not the author. The author pretends to deny any responsibility for inconsistencies posted here. These aren't the blog post's you're looking for. Look over there!)

All the silly glib humor stated, I have to admit 2012 was a hell of a year. Started out badly, hit some higher points near the middle, then crashed and burned quite thoroughly. Nationally we had fires, and hurricanes, shootings and a wild drama filled election. Personally, I dealt with depression, a few months of fantastic productivity and wild ideals, followed by one of the worst crashes I've had in years. I still have mixed feelings discussing all of this, but I feel better when I'm honest, and I'm pragmatic about my failings. Living with depression can sometimes feel like living with an exposed 'self destruct' button and the faster life goes and the more expectations you build for the future, it's all too easy to slip and hit that button, then it all goes sideways.
I've been thinking I'll write more on that later. To reassure you, don't worry, I'm doing much better now. It can be hard at times, but I find it easier to talk about when I'm feeling better, and while I can't promise to be better 'forever' (no one can), I'm always optimistic about the future.

Now more good news! My husband and I had always planned on having two kids, yet life and certain matters of biology conspired to thwart my best efforts. (I may be a tiny bit of a control freak) Thus we aspired earlier in 2012 to accept being parents to an only child, and make plans for all the freedoms that would bring... And Fate, quite loudly, began laughing.

I'm delighted to announce, I'm now expecting a baby this summer. My husband and I found out just before Christmas, and got to enjoy telling our family the good news over the holidays. This may mean that I don't quite get my novel revised and ready for submission quite as soon as I hoped, but I'm more than happy to wait the extra time since our family will finally be complete.

My daughter, who's almost six, is excited to be a big sister and has gotten to practice mothering on her toddler cousins. She's getting smarter and more considerate every day. However, she insists she won't be changing any diapers. Man, kids these days!

So in summary, I have NO idea what my future plans for this blog will be, and at the risk of Fate mocking me again, I'm pretty much going to play things by ear without confining myself to any big commitments. I do hope to post on the blog with semi-regularity, and I've had a lot of fantastic dreams and plot bunnies sprouting up so maybe I'll even find ways to titillate you with new writing.

That's my big announcement! Happy 2013 everyone!

P.S. Another brilliant writer I've come to know, Anton Strout, will also be celebrating the birth of twins this year. I think we need to set up a Baby's of Writers Photoblog or something. WE WILL RULE YOU ALL WITH CUTENESS! If you want in let me know.

Current Projects

aka What is Sizzling in my Brain Pan

I'm trying to write without falling into that place where I start to hate the words. This means I'm also dabbling in several projects to avoid stagnation. For some writers this is a kiss of death. For most this is probably ill advised. Regardless, these are the ideas I've slapped onto paper to call them mine.

What I'm Writing:
Pyrophage -aka Talia. 2nd Draft done, percolating between heavy edits and some large formatting issues that need to be addressed. Genre: Urban Fantasy, Dystopian Sci-fi. Series. 1st of 6. (Burn baby BURN!)

Fiends Rise - aka GIANT LIZARDS EAT MANHATTAN  1st draft 30% done. Outlines are done, (most) world building done. Hurting my brain so I'm taking a break. (Related to Pyrophage. Same world. 2 of 6.)

Anna Undying - YA Vampire Fic, Modern Hungary. (Castles+Cellphones=awesome) Hard outline done. MC fleshed out, secondary characters falling into place.

Laboratory 6 - Short story. Urban Fantasy. Underground science compound, Emus, Raptors, and science geeks. I'm panstering this. I'll probably make an outline, but it's a short, so I'm trying to see if I can wing a first draft w/out too much pre-planning. (Candy Coated Emu. 'Nuff Said.)

Pending Book Reviews:
50 Shades of Grey  (3/10 stars)
50 Shades Darker (I liked it more than I expected)

Suzanne Collins:
Hunger Games, (7/10 stars)
Catching Fire (5/10 stars)<-This may change. I want to reread.
Mockingjay (2/10 stars) (YES. REALLY.)

Chuck Wendig: Mockingbird (Really awesome. Need to re-read critically before rating)
Seanan McGuire: Ashes of Honor (<3! But needs a 2nd read.)

Twilight.... (Sigh. Yes, I may actually read the whole thing. If only to say YES, I read it, now STOP ASKING ME.)

Maybe some Charlaine Harris to round out the reviews, but frankly I already have SO MANY to do. Just... yeah. Give me time.

Also, this week was my birthday! (October 3rd) So I may be receiving even MORE BOOKS as gifts. I have been subsequently more busy as a result. Hopefully I'll be putting more work in here in the future. But first I have to plan time to sleep, meds, and all that jazz.

A Flash Fiction Story: Mixed Messages

I'm a big fan of Chuck Wendig's blog over at terribleminds.com and he does an awesome weekly flash fiction challenge for interested writers, for the first time I decided to sit down and snap something out. the challenge was to smash different genre elements together and create something that fit in several places. I liked the results. This is the product of one day of writing, and a few quick and dirty editing passes. Hope y'all enjoy.

(I am nervous about 'publishing' my work. Especially something I was forced to spend so little time on. Since there's only a week given in the contest. I'd like to make a bunch of disclaimers, but I'll just let you read it and be the judge. Now, I'll go back to pretending I'm invincible and the BEST.WRITER.EVER. ;) )

Flash Fiction: A Game of Aspects

Mixed Messages

Her name was Marion. She had the body of a pinup girl, and the eyes of a lost soul haunted by some inner grief. Bright blue eyes that blazed out at him from beneath ravens wing curls. She was beautiful and alluring, and Troy wanted her at once.

She sat at the bar drinking a dirty martini like it was going to drown the sorrow she was failing to hide. Troy slid up to her. His grey suit was tailored to fit, and pitching his voice low, he tipped his fedora at the lady.

“Why don’t I buy your next round?” She looked at him, flushed. Her skin looked so pale against her black flowing dress. Black wasn't her color, neither was the sorrow that hung on her every move.

“Oh, I shouldn't.” She breathed, her voice breathy and frail, matching her perfectly as she glanced down.

“Look babe, I can’t stand to see a pretty little thing like you looking so sad. Just let me keep you company.” He bartered, leaning on the bar and stunning her with a smile. Her lips curved slowly, a timid little smile brightening her whole face.

“Alright, but only for a while. I have to meet someone.” That was a mysterious answer, and his interest was piqued, but even as he bought her a round and they talked through the evening, she refused to tell him more.

She looked up to the clock after barely an hour, and her face went pale.

“I have to go now.” She whispered. Troy’s heart gave a wrench, something about this girl called to him, more than any dame ever had. Wherever she was going, she didn't seem happy. Alarm bells were ringing in his head but he didn't heed them at all.

“Let me walk you… wherever you’re going.” He said offering his arm. Her lips tightened, and she looked ready to say no, but her worry made her reach for him instead.

He took her hand and led her to the street. It wasn't far, she said, as they walked out into the night.

“If you need any help… I can help you.” Troy offered, all but begging. She looked at him, sapphire eyes in the dark holding his, her smile so sweet.

“You’re an angel to take me this far, but it’s too dangerous. I can’t let you. He’d…” Here she stops, cringing, a tear in her eye. Feeling suddenly bold, Troy turns her to him, leans down and kisses those sweet lips. Her skin’s so cold in the chill night air, and she stops, frozen at his touch. He pulls back, afraid, and her eyes hold his.

“I’m sorry. I couldn't bear to see you cry.” She smiles, and puts a cool hand to his cheek.

“Oh, you dear sweet man, you should go now before you get in too deep.” She pulls her hand away, almost trembling. It might be the cold, or she might be afraid. Troy slips off his suit coat and wraps it around her.

“It’s too late for me babe. From the moment I laid eyes on you it was trapped in your spell.” Troy wants to see her smile again, but he can’t help feeling grim. “Is it your man, husband maybe? Are you afraid of him?”

She flinches, betraying herself, turning her face away.

“It’s too dangerous. You shouldn't be near me.” She glances at the old clock tower and gasps. “I’m going to be late. I've got to go!”

She took off running, heels clicking in the autumn starlight, and he followed like a fool, chasing her down the winding lane, the amber trees whispering their warnings as he went.

He paused when she fled through the cemetery gate. Old steel arches looked foreboding, and what was a girl like her doing in a graveyard at night? His blood chilled, he could practically hear the warmth and light of the bar calling him back to the clink and pour of a whiskey on the rocks. It would be so easy to turn back, but he remembered the look in her eyes. He couldn't let a lovely lady go into the dark alone.

He pursued her down the lane, losing her for a moment among the headstones. She slipped behind a crypt, and he lost her. A glimpse of grey by the moonlight showed him she wasn’t far, but it was only his coat, left draped over a tombstone.

He heard the sound of voices then, whispers flying susurrus on the breeze.

“You’re late. Where have you been?” A sharp mans voice. Followed by a plead.

“Please. I’m sorry! I couldn't do it. I just couldn't bring myself to do it. It’s wrong!”

The man’s voice was a snarl of rage. Troy felt his blood boiling as he inched closer. There was a pistol strapped to his leg, and he leaned down carefully to slip it off his ankle.

“Do you want to die?! You’re running out of time, Marion!”

That was all he needed to hear, he whipped around the crypt, holding his pistol steady, and faced them. She stood in tears, before a man dressed in black, his skin pale as a corpse, wearing a suit that looked twenty years old.

“That’s about enough!” Snapped Troy. “I don’t appreciate you threatening the lady.”

They both turned to him, Marion cried out.

“Viktor no!” As the man beside her snarled, his teeth like fangs, and leaped across the space. Troy snapped the trigger, the crack of gunfire as he fired again and again. Viktor stumbled, extending a hand, his long nails scratched across Troy’s face as he fell to the ground, stone cold and still.

Troy could feel his arms trembling. This was far more than he’d planned. Still, he knew she was worth it. He went to her, stepping over the fallen man. She stared at Viktor’s body then looked to him, her eyes impossibly wide.

“Oh Troy, you’re bleeding.” She whispered. Troy saw her trembling. She must be freezing cold, so he held her close.

“It’s okay babe. As long as you’re okay.” He murmured.

“Ohhhh…” She gasped. She seemed suddenly tense. “You shouldn't have come.”

“It’s alright. I’d do it again.” He said, with a smile.

“Would you?” She whispered. Her voice sounded so strange, strained and altered. He looked down, into blue eyes turned impossibly black. A gut punch of horror filled his loins yet he stood rooted, trapped in the depths of her eyes. “Oh Troy… I’m so sorry.”

The fangs changed her voice. They changed her face too, but she was still beautiful. She bit his neck, holding him tight, and all he could do was gasp one last weak cry. She held him as he died, tears in her eyes, even as she killed him. His last thought being that it served him right, a girl like that was too good to be true.

As she lay him down beside a tombstone, Viktor stretched and stood.

“There my love… It’s done.”

Marion dashed the tears from her eyes and the blood from her mouth.

“He was so kind.” She bit her lip. “I hate this! Will it always be so hard?”

Viktor grabbed her close and kissed her. She kissed him back, melting in his bony arms.

“It gets easier with every bite my love. Give it time. You only died yesterday.”

Marion smiled at him, a smile that lost its sadness.

“I died to be with you.”

Victor stroked her pale cheek.

“Now he died to be with you.”

Memories that drive me

I've thought back recently to moments that helped me know where I was going. Times in my life that tell me this is something I want to be. I've several of them, but one of the most driving points in my life came in one of the hardest times of my childhood. 

When I was in seventh grade I was a tiny quiet little thing, with glasses, braces, and a certain social ineptitude. I was the least popular kid in all my classes, and school was a torment. I might have fared better if someone told me what conformity was, or how to do it, but even without my dorky appearance, every time I opened my mouth to use extremely big descriptive words, I set myself apart from the group all over again.

It was halfway through the school year that my English teacher gave us an assignment, a completely open creative writing project. We were told to write a short story, it could be about anything. It was one of the first times that I could remember being given a chance to simply write, without a dozen addendums and rules to take the joy out of it. We were all to write a short story, about anything we wanted, and the stories would be put into a book as a gift for another teacher.

I was excited. I don’t remember the exact reason I chose my topic, but I decided to write a short story about a man eating bear that stalked a man in his cabin, hoping to eat him too. I thought it came out wonderfully, if I had saved a copy I’d love to read it again, I can hardly remember how it came out. But I do remember writing the climax, the man made a break for freedom, cutting through the woods, finally having to run as the bear bore down upon him… And then the bear got shot by the forest ranger, and the man was saved. (I don’t think it occurred to me to have the bear win. I was twelve, and they tend to send notes home about stories involving graphic death.)

I was so proud of that story. The irony of it is I probably would have turned it in, received my marks, and forgotten that story completely if not for what happened next. I turned in my story, and then the next day, during study hour, the teacher called me to her desk.

“I know what you did.” She stated. (This all sounds so cliché, but I swear those were her exact words.) I blinked in confusion. I don’t remember if I said anything or not, but she went on. I’ve forgotten her exact words, but they went something like this.

“I read your story. It’s very good.” There I smiled, she liked my work. “Except that it’s obviously too good. ‘Slavering’? I don’t know where you stole it from but you aren’t fooling me.”

I was completely baffled, stunned really. She told me I’d be receiving a zero for the assignment and had to take home a note. I may have cried, but I don’t remember. Years later, it does strike me as a certain irony that my English teacher was oblivious to the 900 page hardback historical fiction I had propped on my desk during reading hour. Or the fact that I was completely shunned by my peers for using words like ‘slavering’ in a conversation, but it was the fact that she didn’t that let this story stick in my mind.

I brought the note home to my Mother. I do remember her reaction, she looked at the note and looked at me.

“Why does she think you didn’t write it?”

“She said the words were too big for a seventh grader.”

“Has she met you?”

After that was a phone call, maybe even a teacher conference. My Mother was outraged by the accusation. “She’s scored at a 10^th grade reading level!” The teacher was convinced, my paper was accepted, and it all had a happy ending.

Yet through it all, it wasn’t the final result that stuck with me, or even the words that I wrote, it was that singular moment. That instant where I went from being told my words were good, but that I was unworthy of them. That strange moment of disorientation, when my ability was called into question.

I’ve always had a stubborn streak. This whole incident served to prove to me that I had an ability to write, a potential that I shouldn’t squander. The very words, “this is too good to be written by you” only serve as fuel for my goal. I want to write my stories, and tell them well, so that people will find them fantastic. I want to earn my writers spot, because once upon a time, my words were good enough to convince my teacher that they didn’t come from me.

Movies as Homework

While I'm working on my epic science fiction series, I haven't had as much time to read critically as I'd like. I still read for fun, but between chasing my daughter around and keeping up with edits, reading for homework has fallen by the wayside. Then I sprang upon a new idea. Now with each scene I come across where I want a different perspective, or to do more research into strong and similar character building, I look  for movies, often movies I've already seen, that I can watch critically for research.
So far my list includes heavy action and sci-fi titles, but I'd be interested to know if this technique works for anyone else.

List:
Resident Evil (the first one). Goal: Examine Alice's evolution from amnesiac scared girl, to super powered badass. Watch for clues to her changes that lead into later movies.

I Am Legend. Goal: Look at the survival methods chosen to keep living as a lone survivor in a demolished and highly dangerous area. Explore the survivors guilt inherent to the plot.

The Bourne Identity. (Honestly, I haven't read the books and the movie didn't wow me, but it still has seeds of usefulness. Even a BAD movie can help a writers growth by exploring WHY it didn't work.) My Goal: Look at the distress and cognitive dissonance of a man who's lost his complete identity, only to discover he may not LIKE who he used to be. Examine the psychology and potential traumatic fallout of a complete loss of identity, and what(and who) helps us form our choices.

I'm focusing on these movies before I think of a few more. While I have picked two zombie movies, it does seem to me that currently people only allow society to be destroyed by zombies in film. :) Since my novel series relies upon the destruction of mankind, this is important research.

What sort of movies mirror the current work you're writing? Even movies from a different genre can inspire with a single similar character or relationship. If you could pick a movie to learn from, what would it be and why?

The Short Story: How to End It.

Lately I’ve been reading a bunch of short stories. Mostly free, I confess. I’ve been tackling shorts as a way to unwind in between massive editing forays into my own full length novel. Reading while in ‘editing’ mode, has perhaps made me more critical, but I like to think that I understand WHY I don’t like something, not just WHAT I don’t like.

So in a few blog posts hopefully. I’m going to explain some of the pitfalls I see in short stories and some advice on what to do with it.

Disclaimer: I am not a professional editor, I’m a writer. I prefer to read full length novels, but the same rules can apply to writing shorts. Honestly, I think shorts are especially hard to write in a satisfactory way because of the decreased length. As Jim Butcher once said, “It’s like trying to have a knife fight in a phone booth”. You lack room to expand the tale.

But it CAN be done, for example, look a Junior Reader series book. Their larger font usually means their half as long as the page length suggests (compared to adult fiction) yet they find a way to tell a complete story, beginning to end. If you have time, think about picking up a few to look at writing in its simplest form, they’re quick reads, and often fun.

Common crits/bad reviews: “Too Short.”

This phrase can puzzle writers because they’re writing a short, so the length is expected. What the reader in this case usually means is that something about the ending didn’t satisfy. Every story, no matter how short, needs an arc. You have to have a beginning, middle and end. In a short story, it can be too easy to rush to finish, you reach a point then, “andallthisstuffhappenedokayTheEnd.” This isn’t a school essay hastily written the night before. It’s a piece you want people to understand.

To work on endings you need to focus on several key areas:

1.      Did I answer all the questions?

If your story is a serial, SOME floating questions are okay, but you STILL have to get the character to an END, a safe place, a haven, a point to catch your breath. IF you are writing more to it then YES leave a hook, but that cannot be ALL you leave.

Some famous short stories end on a twist, or a sudden question, then that’s it, the author doesn’t write more. I hate that. It’s a cheap trick. Don’t be cheap. If you can’t figure out a good ending without resorting to “and it was all a dream” then your story isn’t done.  (Note: You CAN write dream stories, but you have to leave allusions to the fact that things do not add up. They must be done WELL. All rules can be broken if things are done amazingly well. This is NEVER easy.)

So re-read, if you go on for a paragraph about the glass rose on her desk, and then the rose is NOT important at all, remove it. If you put emphasis on something, make sure it matters, don’t waste the readers time with the extraneous. ANSWER the questions. “Hattie wondered if she’d ever make peace with her mothers passing.” Is this relevant? Does she make peace? Don’t leave the reader wondering.

2. Make your endings satisfy! 

Is your ending: “Hurry! Rush! keep reading! go go! STOP! Where’s the next page? WHAT THE HELL?” Be not the season finale to Game of Thrones on HBO. 

If people are buying a short story, give them resolution. Hooray! Bob survived his death defying injury when he jumped from the flaming helicopter to rescue the baby seal! He lost his limb, but Annie still loves him! People want CLOSURE. If your character is a skeptic, kidnapped by aliens, probed, then dumped in a cornfield, does he drink himself sick and convince himself it was a dream? Or arm himself with tinfoil to PROVE THE TRUTH? 

We want a peek at what will happen, along with what HAS happened. Don’t just say, Bob was a skeptic, then he got taken by aliens, the end. That’s a beginning and a middle, give us an END. Give us a REASON for spending 5 thousand or 20 thousand words with Bob.

3. Is THIS THE END??? Okay, no one wants to hear question marks when they finish a book. They want to know, either a) I’m done with you. or b) Ha, gotcha! There’s a 2^nd half to this coming out later. Decide BEFORE you write/publish/sell what you are going to DO with this story. Many authors who’ve written great novels either get asked, or get motivated, and wind up writing short stories that feature characters from their novels. This is great! It allows people a quick glance at characters that are fully fleshed, have whole histories, and yet come together in a short piece.

Did I say this is great? Let me clarify, this is great when it’s DONE RIGHT. Even some incredible long fiction authors find themselves flailing at a short piece. You have to balance the fact that Thor the Weasel Farmer, has an entire SAGA devoted to his feud with the evil ermine-mongering Pikipsie clan. There’s only so much back story you need, or even WANT to put into a short story. Give readers a taste, a thin veneer, not enough to confuse them, but enough that they can sense the greater depth.

““I knew we’d meet again!” Growled my arch nemesis Ermine Jill.” Just looking at that sentence tells you, they know each other, and if people are curious about their OTHER adventures, you can mention them on the last page in the bio. You don’t need to recap other books.

Okay, what about the new guy. Bob has a great story, Bob is going to tell you his story in five short stories in a series. Okay… Well, here’s my first question, Why did you choose to present a fiction with that much content as a serial short? In some cases, you might do it as a publishing agreement. You get 5 short pieces in a magazine anthology or something. That gives you range to present your work.

But consider the possibility of saying, ‘Gee, I have five 20K word shorts in a series. I could just do some editing, and make it a 100K Novel.’ What you have to determine is if you have individual arcs for each story. Some things just WORK as a Serial. My favorite is Sparrow Hill Road by Seanan McGuire. Each chapter has a rise and fall and flows as its own little story playing into a greater whole.

Here’s what you don’t do: DO NOT take a novel that you are finished with /partway finished /uncertain of chop it into pieces, and then sell it as a series of shorts. Unless you are willing to chop, rewrite, and edit the hell out of that work to make sure each arc reads like a short. Do not lie to the reader and market it as a ‘short work’ when really it’s a Part 1 of 4 of your novel. Or god have mercy on that poor unsuspecting reader who pays for part 2, 3, or 4, and winds up stuck in the middle of a confusing half finished story.  You may know it’s the middle piece. You might even put it all over the description. It doesn’t change the fact that it will alienate the reader.

(I am violently opposed to anyone publishing unfinished work. It’s a lazy shortcut. You finish, you edit, you polish, and you do it right, or you stop trying to sell me crappy e-books. That’s all.)

So if you want to write a serial short, because you wrote one, and loved those characters so much you want to give us more, just make sure your endings feel like endings. There may be things we are left to discover, but give us a place where the action slows, the reader breaths, and we get a little closure. “And Thor wept over Pete’s tiny weasel grave, knowing even as he laid his tiny buddy to rest, he would surely seek vengeance on that conniving Ermine Jill.”

There is an end, and a hint of foreshadowing. They do it all the time in comics. (Not to be confused with TV Cartoons made from comics where they do ‘to be continued’ all the damn time!) Uncertain how to imply continuation while giving an ending? Read a comic. Look at how even as Eric Banner is always trying to avoid conflict, you just KNOW conflict will find him for another issue. Look for allusions to the future, and hints of continuation in the theme.

If you ARE writing a serial? It helps to imply it in the title, “Ambers Honey Pot Adventures: The Tale of the Pygmy King” She has more than one adventure, and the colon implies that the title may be on more than one piece.

So that’s my advice on endings. Answer the lingering questions, Make sure your story arc includes an ending, and do not neglect the arc for a series. If short goes right into another short with no pause, no stopping for breath, no end in sight, then you’re writing a novel, (or novella) not a short.

Tune in next time when I rant about other short story thrills and woes. From plotting to speed, I hope to keep your shorts trim, fitted, and roomy enough to breathe.

This Was When I Quit: My Journey as a Writer

It's strange, on this crazy writing journey of mine. Sometimes I tell people I've been writing forever, sometimes I say I've just started, and honestly, it's both. It's all these contradictions, fact and and a contradicting fact that is also true, with clarification.

I have wanted to be a writer, a storyteller, a person who writes books, since I was about 6 or 7. I don't remember if there was a specific book that inspired me, I just knew I loved reading, and I loved words. In third grade my teacher first brought out the 'half pages'. The bottom half was lined, the top half was blank, so we wrote stories on the lines, and illustrated them in the top. I wrote stories about a lovable dog that got into trouble. (I don't think they made any sense. I was seven. I would have to edit them prior to publication.)
By the time I was ten I was dreaming up Star Trek NG fanfiction. I don't think I ever got it written down, but I'd act it out, inserting my original character into the Starship Enterprise D and rewriting my favorite episodes.
(It was at 12 that I was bullied relentlessly. I developed an ulcer, and had to leave school. 90% of this abuse centered around the fact that I used 'big words', and read 'big books'. I didn't know how to fit in.)

When I was fourteen, I got my first rejection letter. I had written a full fan fiction manuscript for the Animorphs Series, and sent a letter to K.A. Applegate offering her my concept. It was a very sweetly worded rejection, and it looked handwritten. Sadly I lost it, and to this day I wish I had it, to start my rejection pile off on a high note.
But see... Here's the important part.
That was when I Quit.

I quit writing fan fiction. Oh, I found other outlets and still wrote fan fiction every so often, but I never saw it through. I never forced myself to push through the hard parts, or to find a better way, I would just lose interest, walk away, and abandon those files. I still have them (On a FLOPPY DISK PEOPLE. Oh, how this dates me.) I wrote Harry Potter Fanfiction (along with half the world!) I wrote Fanfiction for the Amelia Peabody series by Elizabeth Peters (knowing my name. I confess I was saddened to learn that was only her pen name), I wrote fan fiction for Anne Rice's Vampires. BUT I never finished, because I quit. I saw I would never BE PUBLISHED, if I wrote myself into someone ELSE'S world.

So I started writing original fiction. I'd get an idea, write half of it down, find myself flailing somewhere, and give up. I kept them, but never finished. A lot of it was vampires. I loved vampires and did a huge amount of creative writing through a chatroom, (A pure text HTML coded RPG. Actual WRITING with no animation, dice, or DM. For those who speak geek.) I had wild vampire adventures with seductions and intrigue and betrayal through my screen name. Surprisingly this really did improve my writing. There was an elite club of characters, they all had these amazingly well written posts, and I wanted to be like that. I whipped out my college vocabulary, I practiced making my words flow, while describing my actions. It was still, in terms of fiction, horribly done. I'd use the same word 50 times in a night, but it forced me to write the words.

Then years passed. Life happened. Instead of going on to go to school to be a writer, I discovered no one thought it was practical. I'd starve, they said, so I did a few years of college, life happened again. Relationships, jobs, many, many failures, and finally good stuff. Marriage, baby, and a nice place to live. In 2007 my friend approached me with this great idea... It'd be a graphic novel, no, a tarot deck, no and actual novel! And a movie! Each time we talked about it, the ideas got bigger, longer, more elaborate. We talked for hours about this amazing world we were going to have. I made a character that was my favorite, he made one that was his, then we fought over the timeline to make each have their shining moments. We took AMAZING photographs themed toward the WIP.
It was going to be a series. It was going to be epic. Someday we would be millionaires!
I finished one draft of one novel, he wrote his draft, but putting them together... didn't work. We fell into the pit of despair filled with wrath and hate and daggers (I mean that literally, we both own a shit-ton of knives, we just don't use them on PEOPLE duh.) It wasn't going to work. He said he was done.

I tried to keep going, then I faced the mountain, the mountain every writer must face. You reach a point where the glamorous money and fame and riches prove to be a mirage... Then you see what actually lies beyond the alluring deception. You see edits. Corrections. Rewrites. You see plot holes and misused metaphor, tropes and excess description. You see your first draft for what it is... crap on a page. Words... that only in the crudest form... reflect the story your trying to tell.

That was when I quit.
Oh, I could make excuses. That I was a new Mom, that I had a baby to raise, or that my depression was acting up, or that I was more concerned with buying a new house.(these are legitimate reasons, but they were not MY reason.)  

The truth is, I just wasn't ready.

I looked at all the other writers and I thought, I'll NEVER be that good. I thought about the work, and how trying to get published takes HOURS upon hours of blood sweat and toil. Then you have Agents, agents and editors that are so overrun with queries that no matter HOW brilliant you are it will never actually grace their fingers.

And guess what, if they sign you for a multiple book deal, you have to make MULTIPLE BOOKS! On a deadline! Without them sucking! Or you'll FAIL and it will be such an EPIC FAIL that the entire INDUSTRY will pause and laugh at you as you fall.
I wasn't afraid of failing. I was afraid of not failing quietly. I was afraid that yes, my work would finally pay off with a beautiful heartfelt AMAZING book I'd spend years crafting. It would do AMAZINGLY well! People would FLOCK to buy it. And then my second book would go HORRIBLY WRONG. It wouldn't get finished... ever... It would get written, but so badly that all my fans would set fire to it. I would be kicked out of the Authors club and told to NEVER darken their doors AGAIN.
That was my fear. And even as cartoonish and laughable as it sounds... It shut me down. It made me quit.
I quit, and I told myself. "I can still write, I just won't go through the pressure of getting published."

That was five years ago. Then in late February or early March of 2012. I realized something. My life, was not gong how I pictured it. A lot of things were there, but like many people, at some point I looked around and all I could see were the things I gave up. I kept getting bad news about family, bad news about my health, and I finally just said to hell with all of it. I was going to sit down, and write my novel til it was done. Then when it was done, I was going to make it better. Then when it was amazing, I'd sell it. Sink or swim, if all I managed to do in life was get my NAME on the cover of a book I wrote, then that was going to be my goal.
Profits? Eh, if I fail, I fail. If I make money... That'd be cool.
Fame? If I get INVITED to a Con because someone WANTS me there as an AUTHOR, that's fame enough for me. That's the dream. (I have a much more specific dream of walking up to Jim Butcher with my novel in hand, slapping it down and saying, "I BEAT the BEAR!" Go read Jim Butcher's bio at jim-butcher.com. I'll wait.)
I have nice, small, achievable expectations. I'm going to keep doing this. I’m not doing this for me. Not really. It's for the story that sits in my head. It's for the characters that live and fight and weep because of the life they live on the pages. It's for the world I created, because I love it.
If I abandon my story now... A whole fictional world dies. (Remember Alderaan.) That's a tragedy I won't be responsible for.
I sat down in March, seized by a fevered madness to WRITE my STORY. I got the first draft out in a month. It's actually turned into two books. It's... kind of a beast. BUT the words are there, the potential is ALL THERE.
 This is the FIRST time I've decided to try for publication. This is the first time I've committed to going the distance. I've been writing forever, yet all of this is new.

Since April I've been working on edits and rewrites. It's the second time I've written this story, and it's already at LEAST 80% better. I've set my BETA Piranha fish to chomp-chomp-chomp on my story and spit out the nasty bits.
I am on my way.
And sometimes I still look at the mountain I still have to climb. I look at the deadly ledges labeled 'query' and 'publisher' and 'self pub' I look at the frightening crevasses labeled 'self-doubt' and 'failure'.
But this time I'm ready. I have made friends who share the journey, I have worked hard to research the science, the truth behind the fiction, and I keep honing my craft more and more each day. I've received encouraging words personally from REAL AUTHORS (I say with hushed awe), who tell me not to quit, to keep going and find my way.

Most of all, I know I'm ready because I've figure out who I am. I am a writer. I am the pen that springs forth worlds of my imagining. I am a mad genius of sadism to characters and masochism to edits. I am crazy, but I am sound. I like who I am.

And This, is where I harden my resolve, look at the mountain, and I WILL NOT quit.