All About the Writing

What's Your (Story) Problem?

There are so many important components to a successful story. Once we figure all of them out, trying to keep them in their proper place can feel like we're juggling knives and flaming bowling balls, with maybe a watermelon tossed in there, just for fun.

Today, though, we have someone who can help us with one of these pieces: the story problem.

Kris Yankee is an editor, and an author, which gives her an intriguing perspective from both sides of the publishing equation. She's going to share some of her knowledge and experience with us today.

Donna:  Kris, thanks so much for giving us a mini-lesson on something that is so fundamental, the story problem. How do you describe this when you're giving a workshop? 

Kris:  Hi Donna, and thanks so much for having me here at your awesome blog. Story problem is a very essential element to fiction writing – it’s what the character is battling with (and through) the entire storyline. Without a story problem, the main character does not know what their expectations are and how to fulfill them. You can also think of it as the theme throughout the story. But I prefer the term story problem because it really brings it home that the character has a problem to deal with.

Donna:  I hadn't really thought of it like that—the character definitely needs to know what is expected of them! You've mentioned on your blog that the first sentence should set up the story problem. Most of us know that the first sentence should hook the reader, but I hadn't thought of it also letting the reader know where the story is headed. I love that idea. It's harder than it looks though! Any suggestions on how to make it work?

Kris: I agree that writing a hook as well as letting the reader know what’s going to be happening can be hard in the very first sentence. Sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn’t. My advice is if you can’t create a hook and problem with the first sentence, just focus on your hook. Make sure that within the first paragraph (or at the very least the first page) your story problem is presented to the audience. Sometimes the hook will lead into the story problem.

Here’s the first line from my MG book, Saving Redwind:

“Oh my gosh! You’ve got to see this! Mom!” I yelled. “Mom! Come here, quick!”

Here’s the first line from my MG book, Camp Fail:

As soon as I stepped onto the bus, I knew that this wasn’t gonna be just another hockey trip.

Here’s one from my YA book, Black Ice:

As soon as I opened the door, I knew my fourteenth birthday was turnin’ into crap.

Okay – so some editing needs to be done on the last two since they start out very similarly, but you get the gist.

Is a story problem present or can you figure it out? Maybe for Camp Fail and Black Ice, but definitely not for Saving Redwind. Still, all of them setup some sort of issue within the hook. What that issue will be is defined within that first page.

Donna:  Those are great examples. In Saving Redwind, I know there's a crisis happening, or he wouldn't be yelling for his mom. And in Camp Fail and Black Ice, I want to know what is happening to make this day so different from the character's usual one.

Since I'm a pantser, I don't want to know too much about the story ahead of time. But knowing the story problem helps to keep that mystery aspect intact, while also giving a roadmap. If you start veering off, heading for a metaphorical guardrail, or you get disoriented or lost in the middle of your story, you can refer back to that.  Do you write your story problem at the beginning of your draft, or after you've been working at the story for a bit?

Kris: I usually write out my story problem as soon as I begin. I’m a pantser as well, but my agent Christine has been requesting that I provide detailed chapter descriptions whenever I submit a partial. This is horrible for me because once I’m done with this very detailed chapter outline, I feel like I’ve already written the story! I understand why she wants it, but it sometimes makes me feel trapped to that particular storyline. When I discussed this with her, I reiterated that I would give myself permission to veer away from that outline if the story took me someplace else. That has helped.

Donna:  That does sound like a good solution (so I plan to borrow it!) You've recently self-published Saving Redwind, a middle-grade adventure book. I was enchanted with this story, since it was a fun adventure, and so creatively imagined. Tell us how you came up with the idea.

Kris: The idea of Saving Redwind came to me when I was taking down wallpaper in my older son’s room after we moved into our new house. It was so ugly – huge pink and gray flowers – and all I could think about was what it would be like to live in that room with those huge flowers staring back at you every day. The world of Redwind started to take shape in my head and it percolated for many years before I actually sat down and wrote the story. I like the idea of a young boy making a difference in a world that’s unknown to him.

Donna:  I'm sure you have plenty of other stories too. What else are you working on? Are you planning on self-pubbing any more books?

Kris: I’ve just finished another MG book, Camp Fail, which will be shopped by my uber wonderful agent, Christine Witthohn. I’m also working on finishing up the YA book, Black Ice, that I’m collaborating on with a screenwriter. His part is done, and I need to get mine done now! I’m not sure if I’ll self-pub anymore. I guess if Christine can’t sell any of my stories, I’ll consider it. But she really had to talk me into it. I’m old school – if NYC doesn’t like my writing, I must be doing something wrong. Christine was able to change my mind about that, and so I published Saving Redwind.

Donna:  Can you tell us a little bit more about your editorial duties? I'm intrigued to hear how that might have helped as you wrote Saving Redwind.

Kris: I’m a project manager for a small press in Michigan. What that means is that I serve as their editor and proof/illustrator/layout liaison. Depending upon the author’s writing skills, I may end up spending a lot time with them crafting their story. Many times our publisher will take on a story because of the idea, not necessarily based on the actual writing.

I think humans are natural storytellers, but may not know the mechanics of writing. I help them become better writers. I also conduct Writers’ Workshops, which consists of a five-week, two-hour a session workshop that teaches the mechanics of writing. Many of our authors take the workshop and then publish with us. I think the fact that I spend so much time editing other people’s work, I become a better writer. I notice the issues they have and try not to have them myself!

Donna:  Kris, that's a great point about editing improving your own writing. Thanks so much for all the great information today. I'm feeling incredibly inspired now! And I've got my fingers crossed for you with all your writing endeavors. I know I'll see you on Twitter (@KrisYankee), and you have a fun blog with such useful writing tips called Adventures That Score. Next stop: the bestseller lists!

Kris: Thanks again, Donna! You’re such a supportive friend and wonderful writer. We’ll see each other on the bestseller lists!

Interview with Ashley March

I am interviewing Ashley March today about her latest book, Romancing the Countess, at the Romance Writer's Revenge blog. Stop by and see what she has to say on how this book came about, her writing projects, and how she manages to accomplish more than is humanly possible!

Stretching the Writing Day

I am not a morning person.

We all know I'm not divulging any state secrets here. The only reason I even get UP in the morning is to avoid that horrid caffeine withdrawal headache that rips my skull open if I don't consume mass quantities of coffee.

However, I do have my contrary side. As soon as I say one thing, I immediately counter it with something else. I'm my very own debate team (which can be more annoying than entertaining, believe me).

So what my contrary side wants to say is this: I do see the value of doing things in the morning, especially those early hours that have never made the acquaintance of high noon. 

Lately I've been doing a 30 minute yoga stretching thing from a DVD, and THEN I get my coffee. I sit down and do some 10-minute fun writing, or I jot down some notes that have popped into my head when I'm supposed to be meditating while folding my body into an origami crane. 

(I still don't know what the yoga instructor means when he says my spine will feel the thrill of confidence and creativity. My spine seems a lot more emotionally subdued.)

However, I honestly feel like I have a better day when I start out with these activities. Most days I try to convince myself – okay, let's be brutally honest – I flat out LIE and tell myself I'll start writing "in just a minute". 

Do I even need to tell you how many days I don't get started until the sun goes down? Guess it's a good thing that we're moving to Daylight Savings Time soon, since the sun will be gone earlier in the day, meaning fewer minutes will be waiting around for me to "start writing".

I don't even want to think about how many minutes have died believing I was going to show up soon.

The worst part is that I spend way too much of my time and energy convincing myself I don't want to do these productive things, and then I try to persuade myself I *should* do them. 

So what do I ultimately accomplish in this exhausting battle with both my selves? I keep my resistance strong, and then I feel guilty about making myself impervious to industrious activity.

When you resist getting started, the day speeds past you. You tell yourself you'll get going at the top of the hour, and you dive right back in to your non-productive endeavors. 

The next time you check the clock, which you can barely see because night has descended, you exclaim, with genuine heartfelt amazement, "Wow! Where did the day go?"

Yet when I start out doing the things I typically avoid – exercise, jumping right into the writing – and I get them done and out of the way, it's like I have a whole day to enjoy. I'm not wasting an hour (or more) lying to myself or feeling guilty or dodging my responsibilities and my inner critic. I have the whole rest of the day to do what I want.

Somehow there seems to be at least TWICE as much day left. And it's totally guilt-free enjoyment. It's like the universe is rewarding you with extra time for getting your chores done. The same way it takes time away from you when you poke around Twitter and Facebook all day long while "getting ready" to work.

It took me a while to figure this time-stretching thing out, and now that I have, I'm actually more excited about mornings.

Surprisingly, so is my inner contrarian.

Pick Up the Pace

Each of us writes at our own pace. Part of the fun of the writing journey is discovering what works for us individually.

I have a certain core way I write things, but I've found it also zigs and zags with each book, to take into account those characters' needs, as well as the requirements of that particular story. We're all heading for "The End", but there are a zillion ways to reach that destination. 

To make things even more challenging, sometimes the writing process seems to have some artificial intelligence built in. The smarter WE get about the whole thing, the more it appears to adapt, making it difficult to keep pace with it.

Which naturally leads to a discussion of pacing in our stories. Or maybe it's a complete non sequitur.

Still, a great suggestion for controlling pacing in your story is "Enter Late, Leave Early". Robert Gregory Browne says on his blog, Casting the Bones, that this is an old screenwriting trick:

"When writing a scene, rather than start at the 'beginning', try entering the scene late -- coming in after events are already in motion. Then make sure you get out of there before said events have concluded."

I could swear on the lives of my characters that I read in his post to think of your scene as a party. I've re-read his post several times and don't see that analogy anywhere. I've Googled and Binged and torn my Favorites folder apart in a vain attempt to find a post that mentions this, because I don't want to take credit away from anyone. So if anyone sees that post, or you are the author of it, please let me know so I can attribute it correctly.

However, we may have to accept the very real possibility that I am blindingly brilliant. (We'll also have to admit I am incapable of remembering if I thought up something so freaking smart.)

Okay, I'm slowing down the pacing on our discussion about pacing. . .

You want your characters to arrive "fashionably late". They won't have to endure that tedious, self-conscious chit chat that occurs before the party really gets going. Nobody likes that, especially readers.

Your characters should enter the scene like James or Jane Bond, suave and debonair and the focus of everyone's attention. The background party noise diminishes because we all want to hear what THEY have to say. It won't be small talk. It'll be something important, worth listening to.

Worth turning pages quickly.

And like the most sought-after guests, they should leave long before the other partygoers. Your characters won't dawdle and linger until the bitter end, looking for their coats and keys while the hosts try to hide their yawns. No, they'll leave when the party is in full swing, leaving everyone to wonder, "What's going to happen next?"

They'll be on to the next scene, intriguing everyone and leaving before they can start to bore anyone. As Mr. Browne says, "Get in, make your point, then get the hell out."

That's good advice for anyone to follow.

Write Like It's Play

I have done a lot of revising this past year, on three completely different manuscripts. In the process, I've learned a great deal about improving a story, and now I know so much more about craft, and technique, and the "rules" of writing. 

That's the good part.

Unfortunately, I've become so conscious of all the things that need to be done during the revision stage, I've somehow convinced myself I should do them during the first-draft phase.

That's the not-so-good part.

I like to write the first draft fairly quickly, blazing through the scenes so that my internal editor is two miles behind me, huffing and puffing to catch up. 

Lately, though, it feels like the internal editor is a sadistic drill sergeant, leaning over me as I struggle to bench press 1000-pound weights with arms made of pencils. 

While I'm all a-quiver trying to create, the internal editor is yelling reminders in my ear. 

"Show, don't tell!"

"Adverbs are for sissies!"

"Where are the layers of description, using all five senses?"

"You can't use THAT word again!"

Talk about a creative buzz kill. Now I'm second guessing myself before I even do the first guessing.

My brain is power mad with its knowledge of craft, forgetting that the role of revision is to IMPROVE the story, not terrify it out of existence before it even appears on the page.

Luckily, before my characters left me for a writer who could accommodate their storytelling needs, I stumbled across a post titled "Just Go", by James Scott Bell. 

He states, "When you write, you have to write freely. You can't let a lot of craft knowledge freeze you up."

This is excellent advice. But how do you follow it?

Mr. Bell says to "write like it's play". 

While doing that, he says you should keep only three things in mind:  1) High stakes for the character, 2) Opposition that is stronger than the character, and 3) Tension/conflict in each scene.

I think even these three things can be a hindrance at first, especially if you have an uncompromising internal editor. In that case, I would emphasize the "write like it's play" aspect. It's during this "play writing" that you learn what the stakes are, as well as the extent of the opposition to the character. Once you determine those, it's easier to ramp up the tension/conflict. These are also fixable during revisions, so resist the temptation to refine them now.

Remember, that need for instant perfection is what got us into trouble in the first place.

So, until I've finished the first draft of this WIP, I've decided to keep my eyes away from craft articles and technique posts. Now it's butt in chair, writing like it's play, and keeping one goal in mind:  Story First. 

I've got a main character in trouble, and it's my job to keep that going, all the way to The End.

When I do hit the finish line, that's when it's time to focus on revisions. Although I definitely plan to leave that drill sergeant of an internal editor in the dust.

The Luxurious Necessity of Reading

When I was younger, I never thought of reading as a guilty pleasure.

It was pretty darn close to a right, one of those "we hold these truths to be self-evident" kinds of things. I would spend the entire summer reading, laying a blanket on the grass outside, and immersing myself in the biggest, thickest books I could find, to ensure I wouldn't finish them too soon.

June would turn into July while I worried whether Scarlett would ever quit chasing that mealy-mouthed Ashley and figure out it was Rhett Butler she should devote her energies to. I never noticed the searing heat of summer since I had to fret about the Count of Monte Cristo escaping in time to exact his revenge. I even began to look forward to school starting up again, so I could have two libraries at my disposal, ensuring I would never run out of reading material.

And yet now, when I've declared myself a writer, and one of the job prerequisites is to read, and to read constantly, I feel as if I'm doing something slightly wrong when I want to spend an entire day consumed by a book.

So what is the source of the conflict here?

It stems from the fact that the most important job requirement of a writer is to write. Whenever I want to read instead, the good ole "I should be writing" mantra jumps up and stares me dead in the eye, daring me to argue with it.

And I can't.

No matter what is going on in my life, no matter what other obligations I have to meet, I always feel like I should be writing—because I know there is never enough time to write all the stories I have inside me. Taking time away from writing, in order to spend time with another writer's stories, almost makes me feel like I'm cheating on my characters.

Yet reading is an essential part of the writing process. It's an enjoyable way to absorb lessons about the writing craft, without our even being conscious of it. It connects us to other writers who have struggled to provide the best book they can, for our reading enjoyment.

I'm always inspired when I finish reading a book. I end up recharged and raring to return to my stories and my characters. Wonderful things happen to my WIPs after I've refueled with words written by somebody else. My delight with the written word, something that can get overlooked when I'm frazzled by a work-in-progress, is instantaneously revived.

I remind myself that reading is what started me on the path to writing in the first place.

And when I think of it that way, reading no longer seems like an indulgence, or something to feel guilty about. It is a luxurious necessity.

Could It Be Magic

Writing feels like magic sometimes, when the words are streaming through my fingertips, effortlessly, and I'm huffing and puffing to keep up with them. I marvel at how I have been chosen to be their conduit, and I give thanks to whatever deities of creativity deemed me worthy to have custody of these delightful characters.

But then there are THOSE days. . .the ones where the characters are clearly demon spawn, sent to torment me for crimes against creativity I did not know I had violated. Magic doesn't happen then. It disappears, in a puff of acrid, toxic smoke, with an evil cackle accompanying it. Does it have to sound so happy to cause me misery?

Yet I know I'll have those magical days again. I never know exactly WHEN, but they do return, and I'm still just as filled with awe as the last time it happened. I try to figure out exactly what I did to cause it, but I've come to think there is no "cause". It just is.

And the logical side of my brain has a hard time accepting that. It wants to organize, and renovate, and move stuff around to make the creativity feel more welcome. If only it worked like that. But it doesn't seem to have any correlation.

Creativity can be corralled, but it can't really be confined. It will allow itself to be molded into a certain form, or format, something recognizable, like a story, but it doesn't really want to follow any of the rules we try to force onto it.

If we're frustrated by this, imagine how it must feel. I can just see it throwing its hands in the air, gritting its teeth as it says, "Again? When will they learn?", just before it dashes out for a vacation from us.

Since I don't know how it happens, or why, I just try to enjoy it while it's here. On those days when the words flow more easily, I offer my gratitude and then sit down and try to write as much as possible, not knowing when the words will slow down and then finally fade away.

On the days when the magic is gone, I still write, but I know it will be a little tougher, kinda like when a key sticks on my laptop and I have to press with a little more vigor than usual.

The funny thing is, the magical days don't always produce the best work. Sometimes it's the hard-won words that win my heart when I go back to read them. Magic is unpredictable that way.

Or maybe the magic isn't in what happens, it's in how we see things.

Today I'm including an excerpt of something I may self-pub in the near future. It's something that I consider magical, because it got me back into writing, after almost a decade of being too discouraged to write. When I wrote this story, it felt like I'd harnessed some kind of magic, because I'd just discovered I was a pantser. Once I figured that out, I was able to write the way I wanted to.

Talk about a magical experience.

Controlling the Uncontrollable

I'm a pantser, not a plotter, so it was hard for me to get ready for Hurricane Irene last week. I'm used to winging it, in so many areas of my life, hoping against hope that things won't be as bad as predicted.

The down side is that I'm also a worrier. A darn good one, too, because I can inflate minor inconveniences into disasters of exotic proportions, all while I'm enjoying my morning cup of coffee.

Instead of stocking up on canned goods and bottled water, like most people did, I fixated on how I would grab my laptop and external hard drive if Irene's fury forced me to escape floods or trees falling onto my house. I assumed that losing my manuscripts probably wouldn't qualify for federal disaster relief, so for one brief shining moment I morphed from a pantser to a plotter, ranking my characters' safety higher than my own.

Now that the danger has passed, I wonder if it's possible to redirect that obsessive/worrying part of the brain into something a little more productive.

The best advice, of course, is: Don't obsess about the things you can't control.

Unfortunately the uncontrollable things are what cause us the most anxiety. Naturally we want to manage those things. And since they are out of anybody's control, it's obvious they need somebody to whip them into shape.

Yet most days I can barely corral my muse, let alone a Category 1 hurricane.

I try to take my worries and fears and anxiety and channel all of it into my characters, letting them fret about things that matter to them, things that will not demolish their physical environment, but will definitely wreak havoc with their world, whether it's a scandal in Regency London, or trying to avoid heartbreak in modern-day times.

But sometimes the act of writing feels like a hurricane we're trying to embrace, hoping it won't demolish us in the process. Our stories can seem too powerful, and wildly unpredictable--a big uncontrollable mass of plot threads, tangled and knotted, or missing entirely. It can feel like a monster looming over us, frightening us with its intensity, making us wonder why in the hell we thought we could make it bow down before us.

But somehow we can't stay away from wanting to revise and revamp and take charge of it. We fight back against the ungovernable fears that we're not up to the task. The desire to tell our story finally overpowers the deep-seated need to steer clear of disastrous failure.

Even before I've scribbled "The End", another story is forming, building strength as it heads my direction, with another one behind it, in an endless succession.

The urge to write has become uncontrollable.

Only this time I'm not going to obsess about it.

Why Your Characters Need The Black Moment

"The Black Moment" is a phrase that is used a lot in romances.

This is the scene where the conflict between the hero and heroine causes their budding romance to crash in a spectacular fashion. At that point it seems like the love they've been enjoying along the way can never overcome their issues and firmly-held beliefs, and the only solution is for them to walk away from each other, sad and hurting. 

The whole book has been leading towards this particular moment, and even though the characters hope it won't get to this point, the readers are actually looking forward to it. It's not that readers are sadistic. They just want to know how the hero and heroine will get over their fears and let their love overcome the differences that should normally keep them apart. 

This is a very essential step before they can get to the Happily Ever After ending—kind of like having to eat your Brussels sprouts before you get to have crème brulee.

I've always struggled with this particular aspect, and not just because I hate Brussels sprouts and love crème brulee. I really love my characters and I don't want them to suffer. I want them to be happy, and I would prefer it if they could just skip, hand in hand, to the marriage chapel, with a beautifully scrolled "The End" appearing over their joyful faces.

But to get to that point of unending bliss, the characters need to go through growing pains, and that pretty much includes well, PAIN. It's not called "growing fun". 

And this is what The Black Moment is all about—growing and changing and maturing. As with most of us, characters won't volunteer to go through a change process that's guaranteed to be uncomfortable or painful. They'll only do it if there is a pretty darn good result waiting at the end of it (i.e., a great life with this person they love).

So what do the characters do when the person they love seems to be the person they should hate?

I mean, here's a man and here's a woman, two completely different people—physically, emotionally—in every way possible. They can manage to find an accommodation when it comes to physical love, because their bodies are designed to have an area of common ground, so to speak.

Now they just have to find this area of common ground emotionally, in order to get through this black moment. Each character has very firmly-held beliefs, and a particular worldview, that headbutts the beliefs and worldview of the person who makes them crazy with lust and love and longing.

I typically refer to this as "The Bleak Moment", because my characters aren't necessarily battling each other, they certainly don't hate each other, and they aren't filled with complete despair. So it's not so dark that it should be considered "black". But they are at an impasse. They can't go forward, and it's too late to go back.

Since they have been building to this point throughout the story, rushing through it would be like a premature. . .release. (Cue Peggy Lee's classic song about disappointment, "Is That All There Is?") 

I recently re-read one of my manuscripts and I realized I'd rushed through this moment, all because I didn't want the characters to go through an extended period of anguish. But it was a letdown. For me. And I'm the one who wrote it. 

It felt like the characters just kind of threw their hands in the air and said, "Okay. Whatever. Where do you want to go for the honeymoon?"

I finally—FINALLY—understood why my characters need to suffer. They need to struggle, so they can feel good at making it through something impossibly difficult. 

It's the same exact way I feel when I make it through a revision that seems daunting. It's too hard, I say. I don't think I can do it. 

But somehow I do. And then it's not as hard as I first thought, because I'm thinking about it differently, considering diverse possibilities, looking at it with fresh eyes, and all of a sudden, I've finished it, I've made it through. And I feel fantabulous, like I've just won a marathon when at first I couldn't even get off the couch.

Our characters benefit in the same way. For example, I have a character that thinks, "I can't possibly let go of my belief that commitment is a trap that will make me want to gnaw off my arm." Every encounter with their love interest challenges that belief. Soon they are in a committed relationship AND both arms are intact, and they haven't once contemplated sharpening their incisors. 

Even more importantly, they've jettisoned their old belief system, through a lot of struggle and hard work. As much as we admired the characters before The Bleak Moment, we're lifelong fans AFTER they've gone through the effort to change for the better.

So now I'm a convert to the importance of The Bleak Moment. I may still struggle with it—which is what happens when you get rid of a firmly-held belief, after all. But now that I understand the payoff, I'm gonna be making my characters squirm. 

Not only are they gonna love it, they're gonna thank me for it.

______________________________________________________________________

P.S.  Speaking of The Black Moment, the characters in Ashley March's newest book, ROMANCING THE COUNTESS, have a lot to teach on that topic! I've got a post on the Heroes and Heartbreakers blog today about this book, so come by and check it out.