OUTLINING – THE KEY TO, OR THE DEATH OF SPONTANEITY?

Ever read a novel that starts out like a house on fire, has a middle that keeps you turning pages, but then falls off at the end like a herd of buffalo stampeding off a cliff?

Ever watch a movie that begins like a blockbuster and then falls flat with a clichéd ending that you've seen a hundred times in bad “B” movies?

I’m convinced this happens because the authors of these books and films did not use a well–planned outline when creating their stories—one that will ensure a chart-buster ending.

Imagine an archer randomly shooting an arrow into the air in hopes that it will somehow hit a bull's-eye somewhere. Outlining a story from beginning to end will guarantee that you will hit your target every time.

Not using an outline to write your story is like a doctor saying, “Oh, we won’t take X-rays, we’ll just start at the head and keep cutting until we find the problem.”

Writing a short story or a novel is tough enough without having to stop in the middle to wonder where you’re going to take the story next. For those who say that outlining is the death of spontaneity, or that it’s too restrictive, or a hindrance to creative flow, let me say that outlining is the total opposite. Outlining gives you the freedom to be super creative while writing because you no longer have to decide on where the story is going, or how you are going to get there—that job has already been done. With a properly-planned outline you can let your creative juices flow to develop strong rich characterization. Plot problems will no longer exist when you use outlines and you can use your genius to focus instead on description, dialogue, style and voice.

The secret to developing great outlines is to work with a formula that is best suited to your style of writing and personality. There are all types—some that are basic and others that go into great depth. There is even new software available that will practically do the outlining for you. Choose the formula that feels most comfortable.  

Here are three steps that I developed that have guided my pen from beginning to end of a story, or should I say, vice versa?

1. Understand that your story should have a beginning, a middle and an end, and that they must be treated separately to start. (You’ll have time later on to make them work together.)
2. Plan the end of your story first. Knowing where and how your story is going to wind up will keep the beginning and middle parts of your story in line. It will also ensure that a) you do not veer off your story line and b) it will give you a direct link to the causality you will need to focus on that will bring you around from start to finish.
3. Use the Plunge Opening. This means that at the beginning of your story, or fairly close to the beginning, you should leap straight onto the major conflict that will affect your protagonist. Many writers wait too long to get to the juice of the story. Instead, they use precious time and paper to ‘set up’ the story. BORING!

So, now that you have the beginning and the end of your story, the middle will practically write itself.

GREAT FICTION - LIKE A PAUSE BUTTON ON A REMOTE CONTROL

            There are criteria that writers and scholars use to define good fiction—theories that set rules and raise bars. And although definitions may change slightly with each successive generation, there is a common belief that all great fiction is tied together by a common denominator, regardless of genre or current trend. Author Steve Almond described it best when he said: “Literature is nothing less than an ongoing discussion about what it means to be human. It is intended to awaken compassion within the reader, and when necessary, distress.” (http://www.mobylives.com/Almond_Bloom.html) In other words, all good fiction is informed with emotion. 

             A writer’s most important goal is to make the reader care what happens to the characters. Maren Elwood, professional writing coach and author who worked with thousands of writers during her lifetime states in her book Characters Make Your Story: “All art is concerned with the creation of an emotional reaction on the part of the beholder. As one of the arts, a piece of creative writing is entertaining only as it moves the reader emotionally. The reader wants to feel, he does not want to think.”

            Emotions are fleeting and good writing, as an art, gives permanent form to the emotional experiences in our lives. Great fiction is like the pause button on a remote control, arresting the transitory so that emotions can linger and be seen. In the introduction to her Telling Stories: An Anthology for Writers, Joyce Carol Oats said: “All artists know either consciously or instinctively that the secret intention of their life’s work is to rescue from the plunge of time something of beauty, permanence, significance in another’s eyes.”

            It is only in fiction that truth can be told. The unique experiences as seen through the writers of great fiction can, many times, clarify the emotions that lie within all of us. 

HOW TO CREATE “DOUBLE-DUTY” SENTENCES

A story is increasingly more interesting and enjoyable when the reader is able to visualize what a writer is communicating. Writers use metaphors and similes to make their writing more visual. A Double-Duty sentence does even more, acting like an analogy instead of a metaphor.

You may ask, “What is the difference between an analogy and a metaphor?” A clear description can be found in Bradford Stull’s The Elements of Figurative Language (Longman, 2001) in which he states, “In essence, the analogy does not claim total identification, which is the property of the metaphor. It claims a similarity of relationships.” With this definition in mind, let us look at an ideal example of a Double-Duty sentence.

G.K. Chesterton (1874-1936) was a prolific English writer who published works on philosophy, ontology, poetry, plays, journalism, public lectures and debates, literary and art criticism, biography, Christian apologetics and fiction, including detective stories. He is best known today for his creation of the great crime solver and Roman Catholic priest Father Brown, who stared in 52 short stories. Father Brown could not be more different than the sharp, quick-witted detectives of the Golden Age. He was a short, plump, round, umbrella-totting, insignificant looking man with plain features and clumsy manners. Yet, he was able to solve crimes using his keen common sense and understanding of human nature. Below is the first sentence from Chesterton’s Father Brown story titled, The Doom of the Darnaways:

Two landscape-painters stood looking at one landscape, which was also a sea-scape, and both were curiously impressed by it, though their impressions were not exactly the same.

This is a Double-Duty sentence because it manifests the truth that each and every person sees the world differently, even when standing side-by-side another person, looking at the same thing. The meaning of this sentence raises it far above a mere description of the first scene of the story and places it on the pedestal that holds the truths of life.

Give your stories greater depth and richer meaning by incorporating a Double-Duty sentence. Don’t overdo it—one per story is enough. You’ll find that readers will take notice and clamor for more.

For further information on G. K. Chesterton and his remarkable life, refer to: http://www.chesterton.org/

DO YOU KNOW THE “BIG FOUR” FEMALE DETECTIVE WRITERS FROM THE “GOLDEN AGE”?

If you’re a writer of detective fiction or someone who loves a good detective mystery, then you’ll want to learn all you can about the “Big Four” female detective writers from the 20s and 30s. Their combined work has sold in the billions. Okay, let’s take the leader out of the picture since her work has sold over 4 billion copies. That still leaves millions of books sold, which means there are millions of fans, which means millions of buyers. That ain’t chump change.

   1)      Number one on the list is Agatha Christie (1890 – 1976). Creator of two of the best-loved detectives, Hercule Poirot and Jane Marple. She wrote the best-selling mystery of all time and one of the best-selling books of all time, And Then There Were None, selling over 100 million copies.

   2)      Dorothy L. Sayers (1893 – 1957). Creator of one of the great detectives of the “Golden Age,” Lord Peter Wimsey—sophisticated, witty and with a high social standing. Sayers was also a translator, translating Dante’s Divine Comedy, and a feminist.

   3)      Margery Allingham (1904-1966). Creator of the detective, Albert Campion, the champion of 17 novels and 20 short stories.

   4)      Ngaio Marsh (1895-1982). She wrote 32 detective novels, featuring Chief Inspector Roderick Alleyn. Marsh loved the theater and it’s not surprising that it is featured in several of her mysteries.

SO, YOU WANT TO BE A WRITER

You want to be a writer, eh? Okay, then; what will you need to do? Here are 12 ways in which you can begin:

• 1^st and foremost, a writer must understand his/her own language. (We’ll go into greater depth on this subject and those that follow in subsequent blog posts.)
• A writer must understand that writing is more than simply putting two or more words together to create a sentence.
• A writer must understand that writing is more than simply telling a story.
• A writer must understand that all words have meaning, and this meaning will reflect differently to different people.
• A writer must be fascinated with words, and have a passion about length of sentences, metaphor, simile, rhythm and flow, and the aesthetic appearance of how words appear on a page.
• A writer must understand originality.
• A writer must be inventive.
• A writer must be succinct.
• A writer may not always hit the center of the bullseye, but he must, at the very least, have the ability to hit the target.
• A writer must carefully choose words that will make his characters come alive—they should be living, breathing human beings and not representations of.
• A writer must select words that will create a three-dimensional setting for his characters—a place where his characters can move in and out of easily, and not some place where they can only move up, down and sideways.
• A writer must use words that will position his reader in the center of the action, making the reader feel as if he/she is a willing participant in all that is happening within the story.

There’s more, too. Still want to be a writer?

LIN ANDERSON: THE STRUCTURE OF STORY PART III

Today, I'm excited to re-introduce Lin Anderson for Part 3 of her 3-part series on The Structure of Story. Lin has a lot of writing experience, having published eight novels, which feature forensic expert Dr Rhona MacLeod. Her books have been translated into several langauages and are in development for TV. Her short stories have appeared in a number of collections, most recently Dead Close was chosen for the Best of British Crime 2011. Also a screenwriter, her film River Child won a BAFTA and the Celtic Film Festival best fiction award. Lin's website is: http://www.lin-anderson.com/ 

In this essay, Lin talks about the importance of the ending and how it relates to all that has come before it. To illustrate her thoughts, Lin has included one of her short stories, One Good Turn.

Part 3: The Resolution

Before you write your resolution I'd like you to consider one thing. What image/thought/emotion do you want your reader to have in their heads when they reach the last word, because that's what will stay with them. That finale image or impression should in some way reflect the beginning. A resolution does not necessarily mean that everything is resolved. What you thought your protagonist wanted may not be what they really needed by the resolution. The tone of your story will help dictate the ending. In true noir, a story ends as desperately as it began. A comedy crime begins and ends on humour. A dramatic piece has a resolution usually based on a form of justice, or morality. The best ending is one your reader didn't expect but when faced with it, realises it's the right one. The sting in the tail.

A short story conceals many stories beneath. We drop into a life, stay a short while and re-emerge, while your character's lives continue. We will always wonder at what might happen next.

To illustrate some of the points raised I'd like you to consider a short story which was commissioned by Victim Support Scotland for a book called Shattered.

One Good Turn

The night bus emerged from Princes Street and turned into Lothian Road. Ben watched it pull up at the previous stop and wished once again he’d walked in that direction. At this time of night the buses filled up quickly. He was first in the queue but that might not be enough.

He stole a glance at the people behind him in the bus shelter. A girl then two guys. The girl looked frozen, her outfit more suited to a dance club than a February night in Edinburgh. Pretty in a cold, pinched sort of way, she was huddled against the glass as far from the two men as possible, as though she didn’t want them to notice her. Difficult in an outfit and heels like that. Ben had already heard their not so discreet comments.

The bus was lumbering up the hill giving Ben the sinking feeling that it was bursting at the seams. He checked his pocket for change, wishing he’d kept enough cash for a taxi. If he had he would be home by now, curled up in his warm bed, with the promise of a long lie tomorrow.

The bus slowed as it approached the stop and Ben allowed his hopes to rise. It wouldn’t stop if it was full. He stepped out of the shelter and stuck out his hand. Already the others were shuffling forward, eager like him to get on board. The bus ground to a halt and the door folded open, blasting them with welcome heat.

‘Sorry, one only.’

A chorus of anger erupted behind Ben as the message sank in.

‘Fuck you,’ the taller of the two guys shouted.

As Ben made to get on, he caught a glimpse of the lassie’s frozen face. He thought of his wee sister Catriona wearing shoes she couldn’t walk in, ignoring his mum’s advice about putting on a coat. He might be frozen but at least he could walk.

‘You go.’ He stood back to let the girl past.      

She hesitated, uncertain how to react. ‘Are you sure?’

‘I’ll get the next one.’

The door closed behind her taking the heat with it. Ben saw the girl grip the pole, stumbling as the bus pulled sharply away.

‘Fucking good Samaritan,’ he cursed himself as he watched the tail end of the bus creep up Lothian Road.

The other two guys had given up and started walking. Ben decided to do the same. God knows when the next bus would arrive, and it too would likely be full. He stuck his hands in his pockets and dipped his head into the biting wind.

Stephanie was so intent on finding something to hold onto that she failed to smile her thanks as the bus pulled away. She felt sorry for the nice guy who’d given her his place, but was grateful for it.

As the bus accelerated she widened her stance in an effort to balance on the ridiculous heels, inwardly cursing herself for wearing the silly shoes. The shoes had been a mistake, the outfit had been a mistake, the entire night had been a mistake. Dark despair swept over her. Now that she didn’t have to concentrate on the cold, the horror that had been her evening came crashing back. She should have listened to her friends. She shouldn’t have gone with Gary. Stephanie clutched the pole tighter, her knuckles white.

The bus had pulled up at the traffic lights on the corner of Bread Street. From the right hand window she spotted her good Samaritan following them, walking with long swift strides. The sight made her feel a little better. He glanced in, catching her eye and smiling. The bus took off again, moving towards the right hand lane, heading for Bruntsfield. The guy, already across Bread Street suddenly broke into a run. Stephanie wanted to cheer him on as he chased the bus to the next traffic light. If it was red, he would catch them up.

Stephanie manoeuvred herself into a position where she could watch his progress from the back window.

The bus wasn’t that far ahead. If it met another red at Melville Drive he would catch up easily. The run had warmed him. He was out of breath but not by much and this was much better than standing at the bus stop. As if in answer to his prayer the bus slowed. The light was changing. Ben put on an extra spurt.

The two guys appeared from nowhere slamming hard into him. Ben staggered, his interrupted momentum resounding through his chest.

‘Bastard!’

Ben registered the shout and the fact that the two men from the bus stop were circling him, but he had no idea why. He drew himself up, gasping for breath.

‘Sorry,’ he said, not sure why he should apologise.

‘Aye, you fucking will be!’

Ben felt the sharp point of an elbow bury itself in his ribs. The little air that was left in his lungs escaped with a hiss. A sudden and acute sense of danger told him to get the hell out of there. Never argue. Always run. Before he could obey his own instructions the two guys were away, whooping and hollering, darting across the road, heading down the lane towards Fountainbridge.

Ben attempted to straighten up. The bus was still at the lights. If he could get his breath back he could catch it. Somehow that seemed even more important now than before. He drew air painfully into his lungs and set off again. Shit!  The bus was beginning to move off. He spotted the girl watching him from the rear window and upped his effort.

He was only yards from the bus when his legs suddenly gave way beneath him. He staggered, reaching out to break his fall as the pavement rose abruptly to meet him.

Stephanie tried to peer out of the steamed up windows. Something had happened. He was on his own then there were three of them. Had he caught up with the other two guys from the bus stop?

Now he was on his own again, only yards behind the bus, but something was wrong.

‘Stop!’ she screamed and held her finger on the bell.

Ben wondered where he was and why he was lying down. Then he remembered – he always felt like this after donating blood. Calm and contented, as though seven pints were all he really needed to survive.

He licked his lips, tasting metal. Salty liquid bubbled up his throat and into his mouth to dribble down his chin. He felt no pain just a strange burning sensation in his side where the guy had elbowed him. He knew he should get up but had no idea where he would find the strength. He heard the rapid click of heels on the pavement and watched as the shoes ran towards him. Ben found himself wondering again how she could walk on those heels, let alone run.

She dropped onto bare knees beside him.

‘Are you alright?’ The face that stared down was frightened and Ben felt the need to reassure her, but couldn’t find his voice. Now she was speaking rapidly into her mobile saying something about a stabbing and an ambulance.

Confusion and fear began to devour Ben’s sense of calm.

‘It’s okay.’ She reached for his hand and took it in her own. Ben was surprised how warm her hand felt against his cold one. He looked up at her. Her eyes were a midnight blue. He thought she looked great in spite of the layers of makeup and the daft shoes and wanted to tell her so.

‘You’re going to be alright,’ she said, her voice soft and trembling.

It was good to hear her say it, even though Ben knew in that moment it wasn’t true.

She moved his head onto her knee. Somewhere in the distance Stephanie heard the searing sound of a siren. He was staring at her, his lips moving, but no sound came out. She gently wiped away the red bubble that had formed at the corner of his mouth.

‘It’s okay, they’re coming. Can you hear them?’

Her knees felt warm and she realised it was because she was kneeling in his blood.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She wanted to turn the clock back. She wanted to be standing in the freezing wind watching the bus pull away with him inside.

JANE ISAAC: THE DEVIL IS IN THE DETAILS

Today, I'm excited to introduce fellow mystery writer and guest blogger Jane Isaac. Jane is the author of the psychological thriller, An Unfamiliar Murder.

Jane lives in rural Northamptonshire, UK. She studied creative writing, and later specialist fiction with the London School of Journalism. Jane is not only a mystery writer, she is also an avid reader, a mum, a dog lover and a traveler. Recently, she has had two short stories accepted for crime anthologies, so please listen up – she knows what she’s talking about.

Here is her fact-filled essay:

The Devil is in the Detail

No matter what genre you write, every book carries some element of research and, for crime fiction, the weight is a heavy one.

There’s not only police procedure, plotlines, areas and events to study, but also people. What’s the secret formula behind the great characters in fiction? Research. Investment into creating and layering our characters gives them the depth to become ‘real’.

As writers we are great people watchers. Aside from interviewing people in our chosen genre, we observe the world around us and pick up little traits: the man in the cafe with the six o’clock shadow, the perfectly manicured mum at the school gates, the child with the tuft of hair that sticks up around his crown – all quirks that help us to build the characters in our fiction.

 

I’ve always been a great fan of studying, a perennial student in many respects, undertaking courses in a plethora of different subjects over the years including law, pottery, even sign language. Consequently, research is one of my favourite aspects of novel writing – a labour of love, one might say.

It’s interesting what directions book research takes. For An Unfamiliar Murder, fire research led me to a wonderful meeting with the former Chief of Northants Fire Service who explained how the structure of our old terraced properties work in the UK, the role of accelerants, and their fire procedures.

I also spoke to endless police officers about their role, their aspirations, the politics of the organisation. Then there are all the books about serial killers and psychopaths – the real case studies that kept me awake at night and haunted my dreams.

Recently, for the sequel, I met up with a former Detective Superintendent, who managed murder squads all over the UK during his 30 year career, for some in-depth research into some of the cases he has managed. Boy, did he have some tales to tell...

The internet can provide a great resource model but, when considering settings, I prefer the hands on approach. I like to visit a scene, if possible, to see what it really looks like, how it smells, what noises I can hear in the background. There are times when you can’t beat touching the cold stone, breathing the air around you. I spent hours trudging over fields examining disused mine shafts, old pump houses, railway cabins, derelict cottages, in pursuit of deposition sites for a body for my first novel. Something my Labrador, Bollo, found particularly enjoyable!

Often such information provides background material which never appears in the novel, or only converts to a couple of lines. Sometimes it’s edited out. But the details we learn provide more depth to our work, allowing us to describe scenes and people from an informed viewpoint. This not only enables the words to flow, but makes it feel more real, which is particularly important for a psychological thriller.

Ever read a book when you’ve questioned an event, a character, a place because it isn’t quite right? Failing to do your research will show. And with the internet these days, it’s easier than ever to make sure we check our information. I’d never claim for my work to be completely factually correct, but it’s certainly not for the want of trying.

Jane Isaac’s debut novel, An Unfamiliar Murder, was published by Rainstorm Press in February 2012. You can learn more about Jane, read her blog and an excerpt from her novel on her website at www.janeisaac.co.uk