Becoming an educated writer

To Buy
Book Trailer
Cheryl's Blog
Facebook
Twitter
Many Genres, One Craft Giveaway
Astraeapress











Becoming an educated writer

The split between the writer and the storyteller has been absorbing a lot of my thoughts lately, as shown by a guest post I wrote for the Astraea Press blog last Writer Wednesday. While it’s true that epublishers are demonstrating their willingness to accept manuscripts that are less than grammatically or stylistically perfect, so long as the flame of a good story is present, it’s also true that we owe it to our craft to educate ourselves and become the best writers we can.

Whichever genre we love, there’s so much to learn about writing within that category. Not only the specific genre requirements—whether we put a body on the first page or have two people notice each other across a crowded club—but also the many elements that combine to create good fiction, from story structure to dialogue, pacing to characterization. These elements of the craft hold true across genre lines, and writers who learn to conquer them for one category of fiction can then learn the genre requirements and adapt the same elements for another. Being an educated writer means being a flexible one.

So how does a writer become educated? We read, both how-to manuals and novels within our genre, learning how a good story is told in theory and seeing how it’s done in fact—or seeing how it didn’t work and what to avoid. We hang out with other writers, in forums, on Facebook and Twitter, through long, silly email conversations that keep us giggling although we aren’t getting much work done. And when we’re lucky, we find a few select, knowledgeable fellow writers who understand our stories and what we’re trying to say. These writers we invite to join us on the journey, as critique partners or beta readers, as they’re called now. (Hey, does anyone know the difference? Or is that just semantics?)

We also attend conferences, where hanging out and learning both take on a whole ’nother dimension. Some of us even return to university, mortgaging the house and both cars to attain a master’s or MFA in writing. (Gotta plug my alma mater here: if you’re looking for graduate studies in fiction, there’s no better place than Seton Hill University. And even if you’re not convinced three extra years of studying for an MFA in Writing Popular Fiction is absolutely essential for your career as a writer, they offer the greatest annual retreats around.)

Most importantly, we write. Every day, we plot, outline, draft, compose, or polish, working on the kernel of a story idea until it glitters like a diamond set in a matte black sky. And we market, sending the finished manuscript around to editors and agents, and while they’re reading that polished masterpiece we return to square one and start all over again.

But there’s a danger hidden within this process of becoming an educated writer, and that’s the danger of losing the good-story flame. It’s the danger of overpolishing, grinding away until the completed manuscript no longer glitters but instead feels stilted and ponderous. Sometimes the damage is done even earlier, perhaps through a too-intricate outline or by creating stilted characters. Anyone who’s ever read a novel with beautiful writing that nevertheless left the reader flat, knows exactly what I mean here.

There’s educated writing. And then there’s too-educated writing. The first is a good story told to the best of the writer’s ability, containing good measures of both style and substance. The other is so dry, all style and no substance, it may as well be used to start the fire.

Learn everything you can about writing. And then learn when to put it all aside. Draft a good story, but don’t kill it with edits.

Okay, enough pontificating. Let’s give away some books. There are two up for grabs, so we’ll select a winner for each:

Many Genres, One Craft is the equivalent of a fiction-writing master’s degree between two covers. Because it’s composed in short essays, quickly read and easily digested, it’s especially great for busy people who only have limited time for studying. MGOC will be released April 29, and the lucky winner’s book will be snail-mailed that day.

In August 1940, German Army Major Faust is unexpectedly captured by the English and he must escape before they break him. But every time he gets away, a woman is raped and murdered, and the English are looking for someone to hang. Faust must catch the killer, even though he’s helping the enemy—even though he’s making a Deal with the Devil. This historical mystery will be released in two parts, the first on May 3 and the second in June, and they’ll be emailed to the winner upon release.

2nd Excerpt:
About an hour ago he’d struck the northern edge of a line of trees. He cut south beneath their shelter and felt his first satisfaction when the ragged line widened about him into a small sheltering forest. Soon he’d stop for the day and rest in the comfort of the trees’ cover. He’d walked all night, and driven all the previous night, and he’d earned a rest. But maybe he could manage another mile first.

And then he stumbled from cover and fell down a little slope into a pool of dawnlight which splashed across his hands as if he was the pebble tossed into the pond, and when he raised his head to look about, he found himself staring across a kitchen garden into the eyes of the most beautiful girl in the world.

He couldn’t move. He crouched on hands and knees, gasping for breath, and measured the depth of surprise in those incredible eyes. Everything around him faded into insignificance, even the pain pounding its insistent rumba rhythm. Confused thoughts stumbled through his brain, each just showing itself for a moment as if afraid to break cover, and he wondered who she could possibly be. Had Sir Thomas Wyatt seen such a look in Anne Boleyn’s fine dark eyes? Whoso list to hunt, I know where is an hind, But as for me, alas—

“Alcock?” she called. Her voice was English, of course, cultured and measured like a poetry reading. “Alcock, is that you?”

Faust shook his head. Nope, not Alcock. And with a beck ye shall me call—

She grabbed a shotgun and rose from the farmhouse stoop. “Who are you?”

Whatever answer Wyatt had received no longer mattered. Poetry vanished like a season past. Cripes, was he still drunk? Mooning away while she shot his arse off? Faust scrambled up and spun back to the little rampart.

But the farmyard, and his head, spun tighter. His feet tried to follow, then the horizon and the rest of the world joined the dance. He hit the ground full-length and cried out as pain ricocheted through his body. For a moment he could only lie still while the echoes faded like ghosts into the depths of his brain. If he could escape back into the forest while she went for help—

He scrabbled up, grabbed for a handhold on the little rampart, glanced over his shoulder. And froze.

A pair of dark brogues were planted among the rows of staked tomatoes, beyond his reach. A pair of shapely, naked legs rose above them and disappeared into the depths of a tweed skirt. Above the skirt rose a body—the most beautiful body in the world—but then he saw the bore of the shotgun aimed at him, a finger curled about the trigger, and his fingers dug into the dirt of the bank. He raised his gaze to meet hers.

Not Anne Boleyn; Campaspe. Cupid and my Campaspe played at cards for kisses; Cupid paid—

—and he’d pay if he moved. The bore of the shotgun never wavered from his center of mass. He couldn’t bring himself to look down, though, because it would mean looking away from her face, a heart-shape framed by a dark auburn bob, the short ends whipped across her mouth and jutting chin. Her fiery hazel eyes, her coral lips, the roses in her flushed face, were mesmerizing. At this range, she couldn’t miss if she was blind—

—At last he set her both his eyes; She won, and Cupid blind did rise—

—and the pellets would rip his guts out.

Maybe he wasn’t drunk. Maybe he was crazy.

“Dad!” she called. “Dad!”

She was calling for help; she wasn’t going to fire; he wasn’t going to die. He dropped his head beneath the edge of the rampart as if onto a pillow, never looking away from her face. Oh Love! has she done this to thee? What shall, alas, become of me?

A voice came from a distance. “Jennifer? What is it?”

Her name was Jennifer. It didn’t fit. It sounded too tame, too un-poetical—what the heck rhymed with Jennifer?—too backwater English village lane-ish. She was ferocious. She should have a name like—

“I’ve caught a German.” Her eyes never left his, and the warmth which seeped through him at the thought was more intoxicating than anything Erhard had served.

Me. Faust smiled. She’s caught me. She should have a name like—

A man appeared beside her. Faust barely noticed him. Like—

“Well done,” the old man said. The barrel of a second shotgun aligned beside the one she aimed at him. It didn’t seem important, either. “Run up to the Hall and fetch Sergeant Tanyon. We’ll wait here.”

He spoke like a professor. Like—

But she turned and ran before Faust could complete the thought, and her spell was broken. Cold reality flooded his soul, routing the warmth she’d provided. He’d been captured.

Sherry, thank you so much for inviting me to share your blog and your wonderful readers. Everyone, don’t forget that while I’ve been over here, Sherry has been hanging out at my blog, Mysteries and Histories. Her two posts discuss judging an ebook by its cover and, ironically enough, guest blogging. Show her some love, too, okay?

Thank you Cheryl, it's been a delight to have you guest here these last few days and for informative comments about PoV and writing. 

PoV Pop Quiz

PoV Pop Quiz

We’ve discussed point of view (PoV), what it is and how it works, over the past two days. Let’s take this discussion from theory to a practical pop quiz. Below are several paragraphs written in third person deep PoV, each containing an accidental break. See if you can find all of them.

The answers are at the end, so no peeking.

Here’s the first one, “borrowed” from the rough draft of Kay Springsteen’s upcoming sweet romance, Elusive Echoes:

“Ry’s got me on babysitting duty tomorrow morning.” Sean swirled his beer, keeping his gaze on the amber liquid sloshing against the edges of the mug. Mel gripped the towel beneath her folded hands more tightly. She’d likely need it soon.

That one’s pretty simple, though, isn’t it? Let’s try something a little tougher. This is from a previous draft of my upcoming historical mystery, Deal with the Devil:

The German officer’s earlier anger had drained, leaving his brown eyes clear, and Clarke knew he wasn’t imagining the touch of derision now in their depths.

Remember, anything that’s not from the leading character’s perspective, anything he or she wouldn’t naturally think about, qualifies as a break in deep PoV.

Let’s try another. This is also from Deal and it’s pretty similar to the preceding one:

For one crazy moment, Clarke believed he had known this man at some point in their past, that he had only to sweep away his agitation to remember a more innocent age. But of course that was impossible.

Here’s one final example. This one I’m creating off the top of my head, but it’s a commonly seen error:

“You don’t want to mess with me,” Luke said, a hint of menace in his voice.

Feel free to discuss these in the comments if you like.

Or you can read the answers after the blurb and excerpt.

Blurb:

In August 1940, German Army Major Faust is unexpectedly captured by the English and he must escape before they break him. But every time he gets away, a woman is raped and murdered, and the English are looking for someone to hang. Faust must catch the killer, even though he’s helping the enemy—even though he’s making a Deal with the Devil.

Excerpt:

Stoner withdrew his silver cigarette case from his breast pocket and lit up, too, leaving the case open on the desk. “Well. Let us review your situation, shall we? First, you have readily admitted you serve in the Wehrmacht, not the Luftwaffe.”

Faust paused, uncertain where Stoner was leading him. “That’s right.”

Stoner tilted his head. “I was not aware German Army officers crewed Air Force warplanes.”

He winced. Should he try to bluff something here? No, the intelligence lectures he had mostly slept through had repeatedly emphasized never lie to an interrogator, and although he couldn’t recall why, there had to be a good reason. “We don’t.”

“So we have immediately established you are not here for a legitimate military purpose, which leaves two possibilities: either you are here as the result of an accident—”

“Which is the case.”

“—or you are here for an illegitimate purpose.”

“An illegitimate purpose?” Faust dragged again, thinking through the implications of that phrase. “You mean espionage?”

“Indeed.”

He let smoke drift from his mouth. Him as a spy—now that was a novel concept. “You know, Mr. Stoner, I was starting to like you—”

“I’m touched.” The irony was light.

“—but you play rough.”

Stoner tapped ash and continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “Your German military intelligence service, the Abwehr, has experienced difficulty obtaining information regarding our defenses in these islands.”

He took a long last drag and stubbed the quarter-inch butt out in the glass ashtray on the table at his elbow. “I didn’t know that.”

“The Royal Air Force, on the other hand, has had remarkable success against Luftwaffe reconnaissance aircraft, which has denied the Abwehr aerial photographs of those defenses.”

“I didn’t know that, either.”

“As it would be criminal folly for the German high command to attempt an invasion without first fully analyzing the defenses of their intended target, the Abwehr has little option but to infiltrate agents within England.”

Faust cradled his injured arm against his side. He could see where the conversation was going now and Stoner’s relentless logic left him cold.

“Herr Major, if the Abwehr selected an agent to infiltrate the Oxford area, it would be someone with your precise qualifications.”

Even knowing it was coming, the blow was a knockout. Faust rubbed his neck and forced himself to breathe. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Then allow me to conclude.” Stoner folded his hands atop his spotless blotter. “We know there is a German intelligence network in place within Oxford.”

“You know more than I do.”

“We know that because we’ve broken it.”

“Then it wasn’t so hot, was it?”

“And they told us another agent was coming.”

Faust quit breathing again.

“Under these circumstances, Herr Major, surely you understand we must verify your position before accepting you as an honorable prisoner of war.”

To Buy Deal With the Devil

Cheryl's Blog

Facebook

Twitter

Book Trailer

Details of book Giveaway

Answers to Quiz 

1. The end of the paragraph shows us Mel’s thoughts, so we’re in her PoV. How could she know what Sean’s actually looking at? He might be thinking he needs his nails trimmed and not even notice the beer’s about to spill.

2. We’re in Clarke’s PoV, looking at the German officer. But Clarke wouldn’t be thinking about what he knows or doesn’t know, especially since his life is at stake in this scene. An alternative method of phrasing this might be, “The touch of derision in their depths wasn’t subtle.” Or some such.

3. Yeah, it’s the same thing: Clarke wouldn’t be thinking about what he believes or doesn’t, while he’s trying to find some means of surviving. This one could be rephrased with a question. “Had he known this man, perhaps years ago?” Or it could be rewritten as:

There was something familiar about this man, as if Clarke had known him at some point in their past and if he could sweep away his agitation, he’d remember a more innocent age. It was the sort of feeling to drive him crazy, but of course it was impossible.

4. Most of us don’t spend much time thinking about our voices and how we sound. If this imaginary Luke is fixating upon putting “a hint of menace” in his voice, then he’s pretty egocentric or at least comes across that way.

Thanks for your informative and fun quiz, Cheryl :-) 

Please come back tomorrow  and discover how to become 'An Educated Writer'

Editorial do’s and don’ts with PoV

Readers have grown to expect certain things within the books they read, and wise authors know it’s best not to disappoint their readers. So here are a few points to keep in mind while crafting your next masterpiece.


Many writers love their characters so much, they want to give each of them a PoV within the book—allow each character to tell part of the story from her own unique perspective. This desire is natural and kind of fun. It’s also a great way for a writer to become better acquainted with her characters—by writing about them. Unfortunately, with modern readers, this is also a potential problem.


Readers today are savvy and sophisticated. Most won’t tolerate poor storytelling and many scoff at poor writing (the actual act of arranging one word after another, for those interested in the difference). The potential problem with multiple PoV stories is, if a character has a PoV, if part of the story is told from her perspective and we get to know that character, then the reader expects her to also have a character development arc. All PoV characters must be an integral part of the storyline, they must learn something and change in some way through the course of the novel, and they must be a slightly different person before the end.


For this reason, writers can’t just give a character a PoV. There are consequences to this decision. Each PoV allowed demands more work from the writer, developing the character, honing her voice, and deciding how her arc should progress. As well, having too many PoVs can confuse the reader. It becomes work rather than fun, keeping everyone straight, and if not done properly with a solid and believable development arc, the ending (no matter how good otherwise) can leave the reader unsatisfied.


And unwilling to buy your next book.


These days, head hopping is another big no-no. Editors don’t want to see it unless (as discussed yesterday) you’re Nora Roberts, or writing certain types of plot-driven rather than character-driven fiction, such as thrillers. And even in an action-packed thriller, the reader’s experience will be enhanced by taking the PoV deeper, which can only be done by avoiding head hopping.


Finally, when writing third person deep PoV, remember that your character can’t see her own face, meaning you can’t use dialogue “beats” such as “She smiled” or “She glanced his way.” Let her words illustrate the character’s facial expression and emotion for the reader, and let what she sees illustrate where she’s looking. This also means that some dialogue “tags” should be avoided, such as “smiled” (nobody smiles words, in any case), “complained” or “asserted” (readers can judge these for themselves by the character’s words, or should be able to).


With third person deep PoV, the only dialogue tag used is “said.” But don’t worry that it will become repetitive. Those savvy modern readers we all want to attract have become used to this, as well, and now expect it. They’ll be so engrossed in your deep Pov, they’ll gloss right over all those “saids.”

For more information visit: Cheryl's blog HERE
Deal with the Devil Pt 1: Buy Link
Giveaway details of Many Genres, One Craft HERE
 

 
Cheryl, thank you for talking about the different perspectives and pitfalls aabout 'point of view', and I look for to tomorrow's input.

Cheryl Grey on What is point of view and why should I care?

Welcome to The Heart of Romance Cheryl, please will you tell us a little bit about yourself before you talk about POV (point of view).
J. Gunnar Grey has never wanted to be anything except a novelist, so of course she’s been everything else—proofreader, typesetter, editor, nonfiction writer, photographer, secretary, data entry clerk, legal assistant, Starfleet lieutenant commander, stable manager, dancer—and no, not that kind of dancer. Her long-suffering husband is just excited she’s actually using her two degrees, one from the University of Houston Downtown and the MA in Writing Popular Fiction from Seton Hill University. Gunnar writes novels that are mysterious, adventurous, and historical, but all sorts of other stuff can leap out of that keyboard without warning. She lives in Humble, Texas, just north of Houston, with two parakeets, the husband (who’s just as noisy as the birds), a fig tree, a vegetable garden, the lawn from the bad place, three armloads of potted plants (make sure it’s past tense), and a coffee maker that’s likely the most important item she owns.

What is point of view and why should I care?

You hear a lot about point of view these days, often abbreviated to PoV. (That’s spelled out, by the way, pee-oh-vee, not pronounced pov.) While it’s always been a part of writing fiction, dating back to Shakespeare’s days at least, it seems as if it’s becoming more important as a part of the craft. My personal opinion is, what editors want is changing, and so it’s being discussed more frequently, which makes it seem more important than it really is.

PoV is the perspective from which the story, or a part of the story, is told. Some how-to manuals advise writers to pretend there’s a camera on one character’s shoulder, recording which she sees, which is then processed by her brain and relayed to the reader.


This technique works for a more distant PoV (and we’ll talk about distance in a bit). But for a closer perspective, consider magically implanting that camera behind your character’s eyes.


Different strokes
You know the different types of PoV, right?
• First person: I wondered what she wanted.
• Second person: You wondered what she wanted.
• Third person: He wondered what she wanted.


Nothing complicated there, right? First person PoV was the big fashion in the 1990s, but it seems less popular now although you still see it. (If you’re thinking that’s a reason to avoid first person, remember Amanda Hocking uses it in her Trylle series.) Second person has been trying to make a splash, but too many readers find it artificial and artsy, even when it’s combined with present tense verbs (You wonder what she wants).


This leaves third person PoV, which remains the most commonly used of the three. But there are also three types of third person:


• Omniscient,
• Shallow, and
• Deep.


Omniscient PoV allows the camera-on-the-shoulder to shift from character to character within a section. The classical example of this technique is Nora Roberts, and it’s difficult to argue against her success. But while the omniscient PoV was popular in the 1980s, when she first started her career, it’s fallen out of fashion recently and is now disparagingly termed head hopping. If you’re not Nora Roberts, editors don’t want to see it.


Shallow PoV plants the camera on one character’s shoulder and we observe the story or section through his eyes without changing shoulders, although the camera can also back off some and give us a look at the character himself. It’s a great technique for certain types of comedy. (“Alyssa had no way of knowing that, just as she was walking into Wal-Mart via one door, Terry was walking out the other,” and so on.) But deep PoV, the one that’s becoming increasingly popular among editors, lets the reader experience the story through that character, which is another level of reading entirely.


In deep PoV, the camera and sometimes even the character fade from the reader’s attention. Instead, the reader becomes the character, thinking her thoughts and vicariously taking her actions, without paying attention to her movements or facial expressions, whether she crosses her arms or plants one hand on her hip. Unless the character is thinking about something, the reader doesn’t know it’s there, but can only imagine it.


Think of deep PoV this way. You can’t see your own face. You may be frowning and not know it (while you consider the fascinating implications of this technique) unless someone or something brings it to your attention. That’s the way it works. Unless someone asks the character, “What’s that frown for?” or unless she’s standing in front of a mirror or suddenly realizes how ugly that expression must be, she won’t even know she’s frowning.


First person is a deep PoV by definition, because the reader spends quality time with a single character, getting to know his thought processes intimately. (And that’s why it can be difficult to write well; not every character is sufficiently complex to carry first person.) Some writers learn the third person deep technique by first drafting a scene in first person and then rewriting it in third, but that seems like an awful lot of busy work to me, at least. My opinion is, if you want to learn third person deep, it’s worth the effort to train your inner editorial ear to recognize it. When it’s right, you’ll know it.

For more information visit: Cheryl's blog HERE
Deal with the Devil Pt 1: Buy Link
Giveaway details of Many Genres, One Craft HERE