deborahjross: (COK)
Larry explains,

"The differentiation between what is episodic and what is not is thin and in constant motion. It is made all the more complicated and obscured by the fact that, in any good story, there is indeed “stuff that happens” along the way… stuff that actually looks, smells and plays just like the very episodic context I’m preaching against.

Confusion becomes paradoxical. But there’s a rule of thumb that helps: do you have a compelling CONCEPT in play?

The ticking off of “stuff that happens along the way” (exposition) that is in support of, pursuit of, and in context to a compelling CONCEPTUAL IDEA (not premise) is, in fact, the stuff of narrative.

Episodic scenes that simply unfold without context or connection to a compelling CENTRAL DRAMATIC CORE QUESTION… ONE QUESTION, becomes that dreaded episodic approach."

For more discussion -- do read the comments -- check out his blog:

“Stay Tuned For Our Next Episode…” or Not.
deborahjross: (Default)
Consider this:

Western storytelling allows you to learn about your hero as you write the story, but you had better completely know your antagonist from the very beginning. Your hero should be the only malleable character in the piece. In other words, your hero must be genuine, but your antagonist must be genuine and tangible.
While your hero will debate and have doubts about the path he is taking, your antagonist cannot. He must be sure of himself, his cause, and his ultimate victory.
The antagonist is not there to merely stop the hero from getting what he wants; he has an agenda, his own list of goals, desires, and tangible goodies that the Protagonist is preventing him from having. The sword must cut both ways: each player wants to get what they want while all the while denying the other what THEY want. It isn’t enough to do just one or the other. They must be completely incompatible with each other.



“The Hopes and Dreams of Truly Awful People” — a guest post by Art Holcomb
deborahjross: (Default)

We are, each one of us, full of magic.


Ha! That got your attention, didn't it?


Finding "magical" ideas isn't a matter of sitting in front of the blank page thinking up cool magic systems. I could sit around all day trying to dream up ideas and get absolutely nowhere. Ideas ambush me. They fall out of pine trees on my head during daily walks, hit me while I'm filling the dishwasher, or rise up and scream at me while I'm working on another writing project altogether.


Where do they come from? Why, from our own lives. Finding the magic within is a matter of opening yourself to the possibility of ideas.


Yes, I know, that is much easier said than done. Begin by simply allowing yourself to be inspired. Creative people hear in the wind the lilt of a new melody...or the whisper of ghosts wanting attention. They see in the sunset the finger paints of a playful god...or the ominous portent of prophecy looming at the cusp of fulfillment. It's all in the imagination, which, if you are going to write or paint or make music, must be allowed to romp freely without the deadly inhibitions of reality thrown at you by well-meaning but magic-challenged friends: "That's silly." "It's just moving air. There's no magic in Coriolis forces."


No magic? Balderdash. I found magic in weeds./;;'>>>>/.




It's true. My long-running battle with the noxious and unbelievably tough knapweed in my pasture ended up on the pages of my first book as my heroine Jetta's intense and frustrating battle with an enemy she can never ultimately defeat. Fire—the elemental fire at the heart of Jetta's world—is alive. It thinks. It wants...the freedom of the open air, the fuel in living greenery, the defeat of the Firedancers who were created at the Beginning of all things to fight its encroachment onto the land. But no matter how many battles the Fire Clans fight and win, fire will still exist. Still want. Still hate.


My frustration with knapweed became Jetta's determination to defeat the enemy threatening her entire world, and from there became a story about duty and sacrifice and what we will do to protect the people and places we love.


I am Jetta, as all writers are in some aspect their characters. Knapweed chokes out everything around it, killing all the native plants except for the trees and making a wasteland out of formerly beautiful meadows (and my horse pasture). I did not know, when the first, surprising line of Firedancer popped into my head, that this tale about preventing devastation was really about my fight against knapweed. But "This fire was malicious" pretty much captured many surly suspicions about my enemy as I, hot, sweaty, and thoroughly sick of lugging around my little sprayer, surveyed its malevolent encroachment. I imagined it laughing at all my efforts to get rid of it. I assigned it an evil genius capable of plotting its next move into previously untouched areas. I—well, okay, I have an active imagination and too much time to think whilst hunting out every rotten plant. So?


I daresay writing fantasy beats the heck out of therapy.


There's magic in everything. It informs our lives as fantasy writers and lets us "write what we know" in the grandest sense. Aren’t there daily struggles we all deal with, from getting the kids to the school bus on time to impossible people at work? The children become magical but maddening creatures and the cretins become orcs. Geez, I love fantasy.


My advice to beginning writers: turn off conventional wisdom and find the magic around you, whatever you write. Be observant—but let what you see pass straight through your reality filters to the inner child, the one who still remembers the enormous possibilities in an empty box. Let the spark flare, no matter how silly it seems.


That really is magic.


Sign up to win an autographed copy of Firedancer at Goodreads starting April 15!


Want to know more about Firedancer? Read on...


The Ancient, the strange, living fire imprisoned at the heart of the world, has grown tired of its cage. It is pushing its way up everywhere, defying the magic of the Firedance that has bound it since the Beginning of all things. Jetta ak'Kal, the most talented Firedancer of her generation, has already lost her lifemate, the village she was supposed to protect, and her confidence to its bold attacks. Now, a year later, her clan ignores her insistence that the Ancient is acting strangely and sends her to protect Annam Vale with only the most erratic journeyman in all the Fire Clans for a helper. Poor Settak has only stubbornness going for him—and a long-cherished love for Jetta that she cannot return.


They arrive in Annam to discover the Ancient crawling up through abandoned mine tunnels. Thrown straight into battle with an enemy that still gives her nightmares, Jetta's private little war is complicated by the presence of Windriders, masters of air, the Ancient's most potent fuel. Arrogant and cocksure of their own ability to protect Annam, most of them side with a village faction that thinks Jetta ak'Kal is a greater liability than an asset. Only Sheshan ak’Kal seems reasonable, but his undisguised interest in Jetta sets Settak bristling.


Beset on all sides, Jetta must somehow bring Windriders and Firedancers in an unprecedented alliance to stop the Ancient, for if she fails, Annam Vale and its big, laughing Stone Delvers will be only the first victims of the firestorm that will surely follow.



_________________________________________________________________________


S. A. Bolich lives in Washington State with 2 horses, 4 cats, and a dog, and is winning against the knapweed, thank you. Her first novel, Firedancer, came out September 2011; the sequel, Windrider, is due out in May 2012. Her short fiction can be found at Beneath Ceaseless Skies, On Spec, Damnation Books, in Defending the Future IV: No Man's Land, and many other places, and is upcoming in The Mystical Cat fantasy anthology and the Gears and Levers steampunk anthology from Sky Warrior Books.


You can find more information about her and her work at her website: www.sabolichbooks.com, follow her on Facebook, Twitter, and subscribe to her blog, Words From Thin Air. You can also download an extensive excerpt of Firedancer at Goodreads.



GUEST BLOG: Sue Bolich on "Finding Magic in Weeds"

Mirrored from my blog.
deborahjross: (dolomites)
"What did you think of (self-published first novel)?" I asked my husband, fellow writer Dave Trowbridge.

He paused for a moment. "The ideas were interesting, and the sentences grammatically correct..."

I waited, since he was so clearly trying to identify what bothered him. Finally, he added, "but the prose was naive."

Now that's a description you don't often hear. I'd read the first few pages out of curiosity after I was on a panel with the author. My initial reaction had been that I understood why the book hadn't sold to a traditional publisher. I wouldn't say the prose was awful or unintelligent, only that it didn't feel professional. And yet even in those few pages, I was able to discern enough of a "hook" to suggest an actual story. You know the phrase, "You can't get there from here"? This was a case of, "You can't get there by this method."


Naive prose, as much as I understand the nebulous concept, is not just overwritten or heavy-handed, although it might be. It's badly timed.

Certainly, we are going to lose readers by overwhelming them with details at the beginning, new words, a host of strange characters, alien settings, supernatural world-building, romantic tension, backstory, etc., all at once. We want to carefully select what we put into those opening scenes, enough to evoke the setting, generate interest in the character and her problem (or some other way of connecting with the reader). We can also foreshadow what will be important later.

It's crucial that we not give the reader too little or too much... and that we introduce all those vital pieces of information at the right time. What's the right time? Not right before or -- even worse -- right after the critical incident for which we needed that information. Not all glumped together so the reader can't tell what's important and what's not, and can't absorb or integrate all that material at one time anyway. Not in random order. I think all these are earmarks of naive prose.

We want our readers to feel secure and competent -- trusting that they have everything they need to follow along with the flow of the story (or, even more fun, anticipating how characters will react or what simmering problems will become active or who done it -- even if the readers' expectations don't come true, it's fun to have that sense of active reading). They should feel that we've played fair with them -- no rabbits out of hats in a world that has neither rabbits nor hats! -- and that they have been able to notice effortlessly everything of importance.

After the first few toe holds of orientation, we can fill in, flesh out, make connections, foreshadow, build tension, set the stage. Even if what comes next is unexpected, it need not and should not be wholely out of possibility for what we've established for the world and its characters. But the reader should not have to agonize over every detail, trying to figure out where it fits and if it will matter later.

Naive prose may not necessarily convey too many details or the wrong ones, but presents them in the wrong order and at the wrong time and in the wrong tempo. That's something to think about.
deborahjross: (Deb and Cleo)
Just in case you missed my blog on "Radcon Part I), here's what happened when I visited a library full of 8th graders (Radcon does an awesome job of youth outreach).

Okay, I said, let’s use something from that story to get going on our own. What should we use?

Kidnapping!

And who shall we kidnap? Anna!

Who are we? Movie stars!

Where are we holding her? At the zoo!

Why are we kidnapping her? For ransom money so we can make a movie! A zombie movie! No, a ninja zombie movie! (I am not making this up.)

Okay, what happens next? Rosie, her best friend, er, trusty sidekick, decides to rescue her! (Now both Anna and Rosie are getting into the act.)

So Rosie sneaks into the zoo…what goes wrong? She lets the Siberian tiger out of its cage!

About this stage, we ran out of time, which was really too bad because the kids were on a roll. A couple of kids, usually boys, kept wanting to kill off characters, which is something to watch out for if you try this collaborative writing yourself. They don’t yet have the sense of a whole story unfolding with rising tension and complications, but they respond pretty well if you show them how that just ends the story before it gets going. They also get it that it’s more fun to torture characters than to just kill them.

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Deborah J. Ross

November 2020

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