9 Storytelling Blunders That Make You Look like an Amateur

image of Riker facepalming

Image from Dark Uncle

 

You may be a grammatical black belt, leaping big vocabulary words in a single bound. But take care: you could still be making elementary mistakes that’ll leave your readers cringing, eye-rolling, and yes, even face-palming.

Protect your writerly reputation! Check out these nine storytelling mistakes that make you look like a total n00b—and learn how to fix them like a pro.

 

1. The Perfect Hero: Best We’ve Ever Seen

The problem: Your character is the Best at Everything, constantly impresses the other characters, and frequently breaks rules yet never gets in real trouble. This character is so cliché she has a name: Mary Sue. She’s amusing for awhile, but only as a daydream. She soon makes you look shallow and self-indulgent.

The fix: Give her fears and weaknesses. Trip her up. Relate to your readers by appealing to their vulnerability. As the Pixar geniuses remind us, we admire characters more for trying than for succeeding.

 

2. The Weak Villain: Foiled Again!

The problem: This mistake often goes with the one above. Your brilliant hero thwarts the villain yet again! Perhaps even single-handedly! But if your villain is that weak, you’re not challenging your hero, which means you have no conflict and therefore no story. It’s boring.

The fix: Give your villain multiple advantages over your hero. A bigger army, bigger guns, more political influence. Your hero should suffer greater and greater losses as he clashes with the villain throughout the story, until he reaches his lowest point, and finds some tiny advantage that helps him defeat the villain—probably an advantage you introduced near the beginning.

 

3. Instant Romance: Just Add Danger!

The problem: Contrary to action movie tradition, “we got shot at together” is not a valid basis for True Love, especially when your characters have only known each other for weeks, days, or even hours. Those stories can be titillating, but not moving.

The fix: Give your characters actual personalities, and something within those personalities that suits them for each other. Watch the first twenty minutes of Pixar’s Up or Wall-E to see how it’s done. (Or here’s more help avoiding shallow romance.)

 

4. Exposition: If You’re Just Joining Us…

The problem: Flat-out explanations for past events instead of hinting at them. You often see these in the subsequent volumes of a series to recap events from previous books, but you’ll also see it in standalone books to reveal heroes’ personal histories, or even to remind the reader what’s happened so far. It’s awkward and often boring.

The fix: This is a classic example of when you should show, not tell. Don’t say it, convey it. Here’s how to get rid of background exposition.

 

5. Laundry List Descriptions: Check, Check, Check

The problem: Describing every character with the same handful of features. Hair color. Eye color. And every article of clothing. You’re trying to give the reader a complete picture, but by the third or fourth detail their eyes are glazing over.

The fix: Pick a few details that inspire your readers to fill in the rest. What would strike you when you first met the character? What would you remember about him later? A unique mustache? A discoloration of the skin? An elaborately pocketed cloak? Focus on these details and give minimalist descriptions for the rest.

 

6. Surprise! It Was All a Dream

The problem: You coax your readers through some tragic or thrilling scene and then jerk them at the end by revealing it was only a dream. Unless you’re writing the next Inception, do not do this. It’s a poor attempt at increasing tension, which ends up feeling more like a broken promise.

The fix: If you must include a dream sequence, make it obvious from the beginning of the scene that it is a dream. Preface it with “I had another dream last night,” or fill it with surreal, dream-like qualities.

 

7. The Idiot Class: They’re All Like That!

The problem: Portraying a people group, often a religious or political organization, as nincompoops. In amateur YA fiction it’s common for all the adults to be idiots, while the kids cleverly fool them at every turn. Unless you’re writing farce, this makes you look shallow and bigoted.

The fix: A few fools are fine, but if you want to be taken seriously, include people with depth on both sides of the conflict. Don’t make your hero—or his cause—infallible.

 

8. Mini Morals: Holier Than Thou

The problem: The hero sidesteps from the plot onto a soapbox for some religious, political or ethical cause. It only lasts for a few lines of dialogue, but it’s spammy, like when you’re talking to a friend about your favorite movie, and he segues into all the reasons you should join the Church of the Lonely Potato. It’s annoying even if you already belong to the Church of the Lonely Potato.

The fix: If you’re going to have a moral or message in your story, the entire story should work to tell that moral, and you shouldn’t flatly state it at the end like in a Saturday morning cartoon. Instead, demonstrate it through the events and consequences of the story.

 

9. Pop Culture References: As Troubling as Justin Bieber

The problem: Modern pop culture references date your work and break your readers’ suspension of disbelief. In five years, is your Gotye reference going to make you look cool or out of touch? And blatant Blazing Saddles references do not help immerse me in your medieval dragon world, Mr. Paolini!

The fix: If your world isn’t connected to our modern world, avoid references entirely. If you’re writing about the future, you have more leeway, but stick with icons that have proven staying power (Bieber will likely follow Aaron Carter into obscurity, but The Beatles are safe territory). Bonus tip: reference your own made-up icons that are popular in your futuristic world.

 

Are you guilty any of these mistakes? What other amateur writing blunders make you cringe when you read them?

 

riker facepalming

Whatever you do when writing your novel, don’t do these nine things.

3 tips to avoid writing a cheesy, shallow romance

image by K Kendall

image by K Kendall

Two attractive people meet. Adventure ensues. They get shot at together. One or both of them shares a moving past experience with the other. Suddenly, it’s love.

Sound similar to the romance in your story? Sorry, it’s also the romantic subplot in pretty much every action movie.

Or maybe yours sounds more like:

Two attractive people meet. One is awkwardly hesitant. One is powerful and forward. They are inexplicably drawn to one another. There are a lot of smoldering gazes and fluttering hearts. It doesn’t matter that they’ve only known each other weeks, days, hours. They know they can’t live without each other.

The problem? You’re just making Cool Whip. The relationships are based on nothing but physical attraction and a few gushy player lines. Corn syrup, oil and air.

You might have done this unintentionally. You might have intended to write something that spoke to the human condition…and watched with horror as the cheesy Jerry Maguire you-complete-me dialogue came oozing out of your fingers. “I’m supposed to be the next Markus Zusak,” you spit at your computer, “Not Stephenie bloody Meyer!”

I know. It’s happened to me.

So here’s the approach I’m taking: Try to forget for the first eight tenths of your book that there even will be a romantic relationship.

Develop the characters individually before you develop their romance.

It might help to think of primetime dramas instead of movies or books—the ones where the two leads are always dancing around a relationship. They work together, struggle together, probably see the best and worst of each other, and still go home alone at the end of the day for years. This means:

  • The audience really gets to know the characters.
  • The characters really get to know each other.
  • You build a ton more tension.

Pretend you’re writing about two people becoming friends.

In literature, as in life, it’s best to build the friendship first. This will force you to stop depending on the cheap thrills of his devastating smile and her million stomach butterflies, and start finding substance on which to build a real relationship, like:

  • Values, fears and interests they have in common.
  • Things they can teach each other.
  • Ways they can grow together.

For some reason, we don’t usually think of these things when we think of romance. Perhaps because most of it’s so cheaply crafted. But a few classics remain shining examples; Pride & Prejudice just celebrated its 200th anniversary.

Sure, it shares elements with a lot of shallow romances: things that appeal to our most basic desires:

  • To be singled out by someone selective.
  • To be adored and sacrificed for.
  • To be protected and provided for.

But it goes much deeper. The heroine and hero of P&P:

  • Value each other’s integrity and intelligence.
  • Discover their own faults by interacting with each other.
  • Become better people from having known each other.

They should fall for each other’s actions, not each other’s words.

There’s little mention of Mr. Darcy’s looks, and no pretty words but one impassioned proposal, which didn’t work for him anyway. It’s Darcy’s actions that win our hearts, from his awkwardness in pursuing Lizzie, to his strength in saving her sister whilst enduring horrible humiliation.

And while Edward Cullen is immortal by way of being undead, Mr. Darcy has been alive and adored for centuries. And, by all accounts, for centuries more.

Aspire to that.

 —

 

 

 

 

Fraternization – revised!

The unbearably schmaltzy story is back – now edited according to your suggestions! 

Big stuff that changed:

  • I kept the Times job, but gave our heroine a little more control over her emotions
  • I made up a specific memory from the relationship to be more showy, less telly
  • I reworked the boss’s character based on the “you look like a zebra” line from the original
  • I deleted some fluff, and with what I added, it made for a story about 100 words shorter

I also tweaked some wording and corrected some tense inconsistencies – with all three tenses in the story, it was easy to get them mixed up. (Read the original here.)

So kick back with some bon bons and let me know what you think!

Picture by Jodi Michelle

Phhoto by Jodi Michelle

Fraternization

It’s the first day of my dream job. Everything is perfect. I sit at my mahogany desk and try not to cry.

I didn’t even apply for this job. The offer came out of the blue, on the heels of seven other unsolicited offers. Higher salaries, better benefits, but I turned them all down. I didn’t want to leave him.

But I couldn’t resist this one.

The worst part was telling him. I was shaking that morning as I rode the elevator to the fourth floor. No amount of daisy-petal pulling could compare to this moment.

I was finally going to find out if he loved me.

I imagined how it would go – you know, fairy-tale scenario.

I’ve received an offer for the editor position at the Times, I’d say, You know how much I love working here, but this is the job I’ve dreamed about for as long as—are you alright?

 I’d interrupt myself at this point because I’d notice how crestfallen he had become.

Christy… he’d stammer, I just…don’t think I’m ready to lose you. I know I’ve never told you how I felt, but—I’ve always loved you.

Of course that wouldn’t happen. But I was hoping for at least a hint of disappointment. Something that would show he cared for me as more than—well, you know.

I arrived at his office. His door was open, as usual, but he was hunched over his address book. I knocked; he looked up. He looked tired, sad, nigh despairing! I wondered if he’d already heard. If he was already grieving for me. He welcomed me in, his eyes searching my face. I sat down across from him, took a deep breath.

“I’ve received an offer,” I began. His expression froze. “For a job,” I dropped my gaze to my fingers, twisted in my lap. “As an editor. At the Times. It’s um—”

“Christy, that’s fantastic!”

Fantastic. Fan-bloody-tastic. His whole face lit up when he said it.

I dutifully put in my last two weeks, but it didn’t get any better. The best I could get out of him was “We are going to miss you around here.”

We. Not I.

It’s replaying that part of the conversation that makes me finally break down. I know it sounds stupid, but when you meet another human being who not only knows but appreciates James P. Blaylock books as much as you do, and who volunteers to waste an entire Monday with you trying to recreate Cap’n Binky’s burnt-jungle-mud coffee from The Disappearing Dwarf because you’re still trying to get over your mom’s death, well. It’s hard to come to terms with the fact that you’ll probably never see him again.

And here in my new office, I don’t even know where the tissues are. I’ll have to make a break for the bathroom to bawl my eyes out on a roll of toilet paper.

I collide with my new boss as I’m bursting into the hallway.

“What’s the matter with you?”

“Nrrthing,” I say—the first half of the word drowning in my snotty throat.

She arches an eyebrow. “Has someone died?”

I shake my head.

“Seriously injured? Diagnosed with cancer?”

“No, no. Everything’s fine. Just…allergies.”

“Well good. As highly as Steve recommended you, I’d hate to find out you were one of those hypochondriacal schoolgirls who’s always dealing with some kind of crisis.”

 “Recommended me…” heart drops to gut. “What?”

But I already understand.

He knew I was in love with him. I hadn’t hidden it as well as I thought. And rather than hurt my feelings, he found a better position for me elsewhere. All those offers. He must have been calling in favors all over town.

“Shoot,” (she uses a different vowel) “I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.”

I can feel my mouth twisting up as I lose control of the muscles in my face. But four feet of no-nonsense pantsuit stand between me and the ladies’ room, and I know if I open my lips to excuse myself, all that’ll come out is a sob.

“Oh,” she squints at me. “I know what’s going on.”

She pushes me back into my office and shuts the door. Now my chin is trembling. Barely five hours at this job and I’m going to get fired.

She bends down to open a cupboard. “If she’s so perfect for the job, I said, why the heck”—she uses different consonants—“are you trying to get rid of her? And do you know what he said?”

I sniff, shaking my head.

“Because—and these were his exact words—‘I constantly have to remind myself not to kiss her.’ You see?”

I stare at her.

She hands me a box of tissues. “Your boss couldn’t make a move while you still worked there. It’s got to be against company policy, right?”

“He…he didn’t say that…”

“Are you calling me a liar?” she plants her hands on her hips.

“I…” I’m floundering now, lightheaded. “That’s not…”

“And now here he comes to take you to lunch, and I’ve screwed up the surprise.”

She’s looking out the window down at the parking lot. I lean forward to see. It’s him. Heading for the door like he’s on a mission. A bunch of flowers in his hand.

I look at my new boss. She grins. “Told you.”

I smile. I forget to breathe.

“You have about twenty seconds to get that eyeliner cleaned up. You look like a zebra.”

She turns on a heel and walks out. I scramble for more tissues.

First day of my dream job. Everything is perfect.

 

Short Fiction: Fraternization

A little piece of fiction that’s been hanging in my head for awhile. It’s too long and too schmaltzy, but I don’t have time to shorten it – and we’ll just chalk it up to the self-indulgence of the hopeless romantic, eh?  Constructive criticism welcome.

Photo by Chris Costes

It’s the first day of my dream job. Everything is perfect. I sit at my mahogany desk and try not to cry.

I didn’t even apply for this job. The offer came out of the blue, on the heels of seven other unsolicited offers. Higher salaries, better benefits, but I turned them all down. I didn’t want to leave him.

But I couldn’t turn down this one.

The worst part was telling him. I was shaking that morning as I rode the elevator to the fourth floor. No amount of daisy-petal pulling could compare to this moment.

I was finally going to find out if he loved me.

I imagined how it would go – you know, best case scenario fairy-tale ending.

I’ve received an offer for the editor position at the Times, I’d say, You know how much I love working here, but this is the job I’ve dreamed about for as long as—are you alright?

 I’d interrupt myself at this point because I’d notice how crestfallen he had become.

Christy… he’d stammer, I just…don’t think I’m ready to lose you. I know I’ve never told you how I felt—but I’ve always loved you.

Of course that wouldn’t happen. But I was hoping at least for a hint of disappointment. Something that would tell me he cared. Well, I knew he cared. He cared about everyone—treated us all like royalty Monday through Friday for the two years I’d worked for him—but he’d never shown a hint of anything more, and neither had I. I’d been so careful not to.

I arrived at his office. His door was open, as usual, but he was hunched over his address book. I knocked. He looked up. He looked tired, sad, nigh despairing! I wondered if he’d already heard. If he was already grieving for me. He welcomed me in, his eyes searching my face. I sat down across from him, took a deep breath.

“I’ve received an offer,” I began. His expression froze. “For a job,” I dropped my gaze to my fingers, twisted in my lap. “As an editor. At the Times. It’s um—”

“Christy, that’s fantastic!”

I looked up, surprised at his tone. His whole face was suddenly brighter.

“That’s the job you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?”

“Well, yes. I—”

“You deserve it, you know. You’ll be the best editor that paper’s ever had.”

“You’re not…upset?”

“Upset? Of course not. I’m happy for you. Aren’t you happy?”

He looked doubtful for a moment, but I couldn’t disappoint him.

“I’m thrilled,” I forced a smile, “Just a little sad to leave this place.”

“We are going to miss you around here.”

We. Not I.

It’s replaying that part of the conversation that makes me finally break down.

And here in my new office, I don’t even know where the tissues are. I’ll have to make a break for the bathroom to bawl my eyes out on a roll of toilet paper.

I collide with my new boss as I’m bursting into the hallway.

I apologize and offer a fake laugh, but it’s too late. She’s seen my red eyes and runny nose.

“Oh, dear,” and she pulls me back into my office and shuts the door, producing a pack of tissues from a drawer. “What’s happened?”

I consider making up a story about a dead aunt, but one glance at her concerned expression and I decide I can’t lie to her.

“He doesn’t love me!” I blurt before hiding my face in my hands.

“Wha…who?”

“My boss. My last boss. When I told him…” quivering breath, “I was leaving,” sob, “he even looked h-h-h-appy. And now I’ll never s-s-s-see him again.” Involuntary wail. Oh, gravy. I haven’t been on the job four hours yet and I’m going to get fired for blubbering like a preteen over a crush. “I’ll get over it!” I gasp, raising my head to look her in the eye and nod—repeatedly, because I have to convince myself as well as her. “Please, I’ll get over it. I’ll be the best editor you’ve ever had, I’ve just got to—” quiver, sob, “Compose myself.”

She shakes her head. “Don’t you know how you got this job?” Her voice is high and constricted, like she’s about to laugh.  “Your boss called to recommend you.”

“He…” heart drops to gut. “What?”

But I already understand.

He knew I was in love with him. I hadn’t hidden it as well as I thought. And rather than hurt my feelings, he found a better position for me elsewhere. All those offers. He must have been calling in favors all over town.

More wailing, sobbing, nose blowing. Where are Ben & Jerry when you need them?

“Christy!”

I snap back to attention and realize my new boss—or new ex-boss?—has been trying to tell me something.

“When he called,” she said again, her voice steady, “And told me you were perfect for the job, I asked him why, then, was he letting you go? And do you know what he said?”

I sniffed, shaking my head.

“Because—and these were his exact words—‘I constantly have to remind myself not to kiss her.’ You see?”

I stare at her.

“He couldn’t make a move while you still worked there. He didn’t want you to feel like your job depended on a relationship.”

“He…he didn’t say that…”

“Are you calling me a liar?” she planted her hands on her hips.

“I…” I’m floundering now, lightheaded. Maybe I’ll faint like a woman in an old movie. “That’s not…”

“And now here he comes to take you to lunch, and I’ve ruined the surprise.”

She’s looking out the window down at the parking lot. I lean forward to see. It’s him. Heading for the door like he’s on a mission. A bunch of flowers in his hand.

I look at my new boss. She looks at me and grins. “Told you.”

I smile. I forget to breathe. This must be what giddy means.

“You have about twenty seconds to get that eyeliner cleaned up. You look like a zebra.”

She turns on a heel and walks out. I scramble for more tissues.

First day of my dream job. Everything is perfect.

UPDATE: The second draft of Fraternization is now posted!