Tag: how to write a novel

The most important sentence in your book

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crying boy

Photo by David Shankbone

You know the feeling. The book you’ve spent the last couple of weeks reading has become a dear friend. You must keep reading it, but the more you do, the closer you get to the end…and suddenly it’s over. It is no longer a companion, but a memory. You enter into mourning.

Sequels aside, only one thing can ease pain of the ending of a great book:

A great last sentence.

We already talked about the second most important sentence in the book – the first sentence. The first sentence gets them to read the book; but the last sentence makes them glad they did. It is the punchline to the joke. The splash at the end of a water slide. The cheers and kisses at the end of the New Year’s countdown.

The last sentence means the difference between the reader feeling the story was cut short, cheated with an early death – or feeling the story lived a good long life and made its imprint on the world.

Last words with a deathbed level of importance.

A great last sentence will do one or more of the following:

  • Refer back to a theme present throughout the book. Bonus points if it mirrors the first sentence.
  • Evoke a sense of victory and/or hope.
  • Show the purpose of the story and/or the meaning behind the title

Here’s a poor last sentence from an otherwise great book, Pride & Prejudice (Austen):

With the Gardiners, they were always on the most intimate terms. Darcy, as well as Elizabeth, really loved them; and they were both ever sensible of the warmest gratitude towards the persons who, by bringing her into Derbyshire, had been the means of uniting them.

Why it’s lame: The Gardiners were not a major theme in the story: this is more of an amusing side note than last words. The sentence (er, sentences) could fit anywhere else in the chapter – rather disappointing in a book with one of the most famous first sentences ever. Let’s compare to some great last sentences:

The Book of Lost Things (Connolly):

And in the darkness David closed his eyes, as all that was lost was found again.

Why it’s brilliant: In a book whose first sentence relates the loss of David’s mother, and whose successive chapters speak of many other losses, this sentence, capping an ending full of reunions, is poetry.

The Outsiders (Hinton):

[We learn in the final chapter the character is writing a school paper on a personal experience.]

And I finally began like this: When I stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, I had only two things on my mind: Paul Newman and a ride home…

Why it’s brilliant: Everything after that first colon is a copy of the first line of the book. We suddenly realize the book we have been reading is that school paper – and that he is writing about his tragedy to tell the world to keep it from happening again.

A Tale of Two Cities (Dickens):

It is a far, far better thing I do than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known.

Why it’s brilliant: The character speaking, who has till now lived a pointless life, has just done something heroic. We feel victory knowing he has risen above, and hope in the peace he will have.

The Book Thief (Zusak):

I am haunted by humans.

Why it’s brilliant: It’s ironic, as the book is narrated by Death, who is supposed to haunt us. It’s also a play on words: he doesn’t mean he fears humans, but that the stories of our lives touch him. And that’s the whole point of the book.

The Last Battle (Lewis):

All their life in this world and all their adventures in Narnia had only been the cover and the title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story, which no one on earth has read: which goes on forever: in which every chapter is better than the one before.

Why it’s brilliant: It’s the last book in one of the best loved series of all time; that’s a hard thing to say goodbye to. Lewis does it by transforming a death into a birth – for both the series and our own souls.

 

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What’s your favorite last sentence? Why is it brilliant?

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Should you write for yourself, or for other people?

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Image by AntToeKnee. Check out his profile to read his hilarious bio.

When you sit down to write, who are you writing for? Are you writing only for your own amusement (or catharsis?), or to entertain other people? And which is right?

If you write only to please yourself, you’re in danger of contracting Ugly Baby Syndrome—thinking your creation is perfect no matter what anyone else says. If they don’t like it, you are personally offended. If they say pages full of poetic scenic description are boring, you say they are uncultured swine. You throw a little pity party because nobody understands your unique method of expression.

Well, you’re right. Nobody understands you because you’re not explaining yourself well.

Here’s the tough truth: being unique doesn’t make you good. You may be expressing yourself, but you are refusing to express yourself in a language anyone else understands. You are being selfish. If you want to be understood, you have to speak to them in their language first. Start where you have common ground. That means putting the story—its integrity, pace, and structure—above your pretty-words ego.

If you write only to please people, well, you’ll become a people-pleaser. A sellout.The irony is that this is another form of selfishness. You’re really writing for the attention, the prestige, the money. As soon as you find something most people seem to like, you’ll just keep writing that same story over and over again—change the names and the settings, but the same plot every time. You don’t dare to be different. You don’t dare to write the truth about your own life and struggles and the hard things you’ve learned. You turn into a formula fiction factory. On your new book cover, your name is larger than the title because people already know what’s in any story you write. You’ve stopped being an artist. You have ceased to express yourself. You are not telling the world anything it doesn’t already know.

So what’s the answer?

Write for yourself. Edit for your audience.

Maggie pointed this out in the comments of this post.

When you pour out that first and second draft, write what you enjoy. Write the kind of story you love to read. Write who you are in the grittiest, nakedest way. Write what you want to say to the world.

The ironic result is that a lot of other people probably love what you love. A lot of them have felt what you have felt. What you write could appeal to them on a deep level.

When you move on into the rewriting and editing stages, have them first in mind. You expressed yourself. Now, translate that expression. Help your audience understand you, and help them have a good time of it. Put the story above your ego. That means showing truth, not preaching it. It means cutting out extraneous drabble; letting go of your sentimental attachments if they don’t support the story. If you are in love with an unnecessary character, or you adore a setting that hinders the plot, or you’re attached to a line of dialogue a character would never say, cut it out!

Your writing ability should serve the story, not the other way around. First the truth-telling. Then the truth-translating.

That’s how to create something both you and your audience will love.

 

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 What sentimental attachments do you have to detrimental elements of your work? What truths are you afraid might offend people?

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The Diamond-Buyer’s Guide to Writing a Literary Gem

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Photo by Steve de Polo

When determining the value of a diamond, gemologists look at four factors, collectively known as the Four Cs. By a convenient coincidence, all four coincide with important points of writing. So here are a few pointers on writing a novel that shines.

Carat – the size or weight of the diamond.

Do your plot and characters have enough weight to carry the story? Does enough happen to your hero, not just physically, but emotionally, that the story is worth writing and worth reading? If so, proceed. If not, it isn’t worth the cost. Dig deeper.

 

Clarity – how many inclusions (little black dots) are in the diamond.

Unclear wording slows down your reader – and thus the story, and keeps the light from shining through. Bummer. Look back at 47 ways to find and eliminate inclusions in your writing.

 

Cut – If a diamond is cut too long, the light will bounce sideways off the lower facets. Too short, and the light just falls through. But just right, a la Goldilocks, and the light reflects off the lower facets directly into the eyes for optimum sparkle.

Just so with editing. “They” say to cut anything that is not necessary to the plot. But a novel cannot live on plot alone. Character is just as important. Check every scene to ensure it contains two or more of the following elements:

  • Establishing character
  • Advancing plot
  • Foreshadowing events
  • Braiding in subplots

If you find a scene that doesn’t have two or more elements—and you can’t manage to work a second element in—cut it. If there was anything important in that scene, extract it and work it into another existing scene.

                       

Color – the purer white it is, the more iridescent the shine.

In writing, that pure whiteness is honesty. Yes, you are writing about made-up people in made-up situations, but you still must be emotionally honest. About how you see the world. About what keeps you up at night. What you fear. What you long for. What hurts most. And why you keep on fighting. When you’re writing that first draft, don’t try to be eloquent. Don’t try to impress your readers. Don’t preach at them. Just climb into the head of the character who’s telling the story. Then reach into your gut and vomit your feelings on the paper. The worst and the best.

That’s when the precious gem emerges; when you’re not trying to create a feeling, but to express one. As Ray Bradbury says, “when a man talks from his heart, in his moment of truth, he speaks poetry.”

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4 steps to stop writing fan fics and start writing original stories

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Img by Jenn Durfey

Stuck writing stories about Elizabeth Bennett, Harry Potter, Edward Cullen, or (heaven forbid) all three? Maybe you’re longing to create something of your own, but you don’t know where to start (or maybe you’re desperate to stop this madness before Mr. Darcy elopes with Bella Swan). Well. I have good news.

Fan fiction is a great place to start. In a way, I started with fan fiction (X-Men was my guilty pleasure in junior high – so many possibilities!). The pre-existing world, concept, and characters give you the freedom to experiment with plotlines and storytelling without having to fill in every single detail yourself. It’s a good outlet. Good practice. Kind of like training wheels.

But if you’re reading this, it’s time to take off the training wheels. Here are a few pointers to help ease your transition.

Start with one original character.

Start small. Invent one character of your own to fit into the existing fan fic landscape. Give him or her a name, a background, special talents, likes, dislikes. Have a good time experimenting with how a new personality will fit into the world you know so well, beside the characters you have loved so long. This isn’t so different from taking an existing minor character and giving them a more prominent part.

Move that character into an original setting.

Another baby step. Take your character and put them somewhere new. They take a trip, move across the country, go to college, get kidnapped. It can still be within the fan fic concept world, but in a scene you have to create from scratch, with supporting characters you must give birth to. Don’t worry; this will be easier than you think. It doesn’t have to be a finished story, or even very good. The important thing at this point is that it’s 90% yours. You’re almost there!

Consume other fiction.

Meanwhile, in your recreational reading, take a break from the world of your fan fics. If you write Star Wars stories, get out of the extended universe! Visit the worlds of Anne McCaffrey, Orson Scott Card, Shannon Hale. Step out of your genre and read a little Marcus Zusak or John Green. Fill up your head with new material—it’s fuel for original ideas.

Dare to be different.

Here’s the part where your authorial benefactor lets go of the bicycle seat and sends you flying down the hill. Write like the wind! In the beginning, check yourself frequently to make sure you’re not lapsing into the other writer’s world again—examine the relationships you create and the order of events. It’s normal to see some similarities (nothing is new under the sun): just make sure you’re not doing what Paolini did with Eragon.

A final note:

It may be a long time (a lot of digging deep into parts of you that hurt) before you come up with something truly unique and beautiful. Remember; if it’s easy, you’re doing it wrong. But you’re out of your rut now, and on your own. So let the adventure begin. 

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23 fun ways to be productive despite writer’s block

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Image by Drew Coffman

After waiting for it all week, you’re finally settling in at your computer with a giant mug of tea. You open your novel-in-progress. You scroll to the blank space at the end. You stretch your fingers.

And nothing happens.

You don’t feel like writing. You’re still tired from the mad work week. Your brain hasn’t woken up yet. You need to start the laundry, balance the checkbook and scrub out the tub. And this scene is boring. And you’re not really sure what happens next. Well, you know what happens next, but you don’t know how to get from here to there and it’s just not coming!

No use in wasting time staring at your computer (or, more likely watching YouTube videos and checking Pinterest). Here are 23 fun things you can experiment with to make your novel better while you wait for inspiration to strike.

  1. Cut 50 words from the previous page.
  2. Find creative ways to eliminate five adverbs (seach “ly” using the Find tool to find them).
  3. Go back to the previous scene and add a detail that reveals something about a character.
  4. Outline your villain’s evil plan.
  5. Jot down five alternate titles for the book.
  6. Write five alternate first sentences.
  7. Try moving chapter breaks around. See if every chapter can end in a cliffhanger.
  8. Go back to the previous action scene (fight, chase, whatever) and experiment with shortening all the sentences. Try using more incomplete sentences.
  9. Find a place where you use a color to describe something (brown, grey, green, yellow) and replace/supplement the name of the color with the name of an item (e.g. chocolate, dust, moss, straw).
  10. In the scene in which you are stuck, think of the most ridiculous thing that could happen next.
  11. Think of the most surprising (but plausible) thing that could happen next.
  12. Have a chat with your protagonist. Ask if he would rather do something else.
  13. Turn on some music that matches the feel of the scene you are trying to write (heavy metal for a battle scene, classical violin for a death scene, etc.) and free write whatever comes into your head.
  14. Write a scene that comes much later but that you’ve been dying to get to.
  15. Find your longest paragraph so far and shorten it by a third.
  16. Pick a minor character (even one you haven’t named) and write a short story about them.
  17. Add scents to two of your scenes (the sweaty corn chip smell of a teenager’s bedroom, the sharp blend of bleach and urine in a public restroom, etc.).
  18. Pick another scene and remove all visual description, supplementing with only sound, scent, taste, and touch.
  19. Read a chapter of that book on writing that’s been gathering dust for the last few months.
  20. Find five verbs in the previous chapter and replace them with more descriptive synonyms. Bonus points if you can eliminate some more adverbs, too (“walking quickly” becomes “sneaking”).
  21. Find five places where you can cut out dialogue tags (he said, she said), without sacrificing clarity.
  22. Pick one character and give them a nervous quirk, like biting their nails or smoothing their mustache. Comb your manuscript for good places to add it in.
  23. You know those notes you make when you get a brilliant idea? The ones you hardly ever look at again? Reread them.

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Now you have no excuse. Go play!

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