Inspiration Monday II

Thanks and kudos to Debra at Find An Outlet for participating in last week’s Inspiration Monday. Read her (two!) fantastic pieces here. If I missed any participants, let me know in the comments!

 

The Rules

There are none. Read the prompts, get inspired, write something. No word count minimum or maximum. You don’t have to include the prompt in your piece, and you can interpret the prompt(s) any way you like.

No really; I need rules!

If you work better with guidelines: write 200-500 words on the prompt of your choice. You may either use the prompt as the title of your piece or work it into the body of your piece. You must complete it before 6 pm CST on the Monday following this post.

 

The Prompts

I ignored the raised eyebrow of the checkout girl

Time capsule from the future

The answer, one day too late

Saved by a broken law

Everyday villain

If you want to share your Inspiration Monday piece, post it on your blog and link back to today’s post; I’ll include a link to your piece in the next Inspiration Monday post.

Happy writing!

An open letter to Avi

Dear Avi,

Last Sunday I was reading The End of Time, the last book in your Crispin trilogy. I was fully absorbed in the story when I turned the page and…let out a sound of shock and disgust. The story had stopped. It didn’t end, it just stopped.

You didn’t resolve anything! The only indication you gave of an ending was to match the last line with the title of the book. All you left me with was the suggestion that Crispin might get to Iceland, where he might find his freedom, but it probably won’t be nearly as nice as he was hoping. And he’s probably never going to see Troth again, and he’ll never claim his birthright as an English lord. What is that about?

I suppose you will give some excuse like, “I left it open ended so the readers can decide for themselves.” That’s a load of baloney sandwiches. If I wanted to make up an ending for myself, I would make up the whole story and never pick up a book at all. Don’t spend 300 pages buying my trust with your words only to abandon me when it’s too late to turn back.

Open endings are only acceptable in short stories, because short story readers are looking for a roller coaster ride, not a trip around the world. They are looking for something that will spark their imaginations and make them think. Novel readers, on the other hand, want something more – they are giving you more of their time and therefore expect a certain amount of satisfaction.

The moment you touch fingers to keys, you are making promises to your readers. Every problem you introduce is a promise for a solution. A novel is like a magic trick – the pledge (“Look at this ordinary bird in a cage!”), the turn (“But see, the bird and cage have vanished!”), and the prestige (“The bird returns!”). What you did was the literary equivalent of cutting a woman in half and not putting her back together again.

I’m counting three possible reasons you didn’t write an ending: you are lazy, you are a coward, or you are a lazy coward. The lazy can’t be bothered to come up with an ending that is simultaneously logical and surprising, happy and realistic. The coward is afraid that his sentimental readers will be unhappy if he writes it sad, and that his snobbish readers will deride him if he writes it happy. Neither of these types has any business writing books. So either hang up your quill for good, or get up off your derrière, grow a spine, and write an ending.

Sincerely,

Be Kind Rewrite. (Seriously. Rewrite it.)

P.S. I see on your website that Kirkus Reviews wrote “Avi guides his hero toward a final, very satisfying destiny in this wonderfully realized conclusion to the Crispin trilogy.” Fess up, that was your mother, wasn’t it?

Why Doctor Who is awesome: a writer’s perspective

 

 

yes, this is a sonic screwdriver

 

I’ll try not to break into fangirl gushing – and simply state some solid reasons Doctor Who has lasted so long.

The BBC’s Doctor Who is the longest-running sci-fi series in history. It ran from 1963-1989, was regenerated in 2005 and has been going strong ever since. It’s about a 900-year-old Time Lord from an alien planet who calls himself “the Doctor.” He spends his days traveling through time and space, saving people, worlds, and whole universes. Here are five reasons the show has been so successful for so long:

Infinite possibilities

Because the Doctor can travel through time and space, the writers have the whole of human history to play with, plus whatever they can imagine in our future and across the universe.
Immortal characters played by mortal actors

The DW writers solved the problem of actors aging or moving on to other projects by creating in a quirk of Time Lord DNA – Time Lords don’t die; they regenerate. I.e., the same character comes back as a different actor, with a different wardrobe and perhaps a different personality.

Recurring elements

There are some things that stay the same throughout the series, maintaining a sense of familiarity despite constantly changing characters and locations. The main ones include:

The Doctor – insofar as his background and identity goes.

The TARDIS – the Doctor’s space ship/time machine, which is bigger on the inside. Due to a broken chameleon circuit, the TARDIS is stuck looking like a Police Call Box from 1963 London. The Doctor doesn’t fix it, because he likes it that way.

Sonic Screwdriver – a handy tool the Doctor uses in almost every episode to open doors, reprogram robots, and more.

Psychic paper – a blank piece of paper that shows people whatever the Doctor wants them to see. He usually uses it as fake ID to break into high security establishments and exclusive parties.

Relatability

The genius alien time traveler must be balanced with a more relatable, “regular” character, if only so the Doctor has someone to explain things to, so the audience doesn’t get lost. The Doctor always has a companion – usually a girl from modern-day Earth, who travels with him.

Great writing

The concepts are fascinating, the storytelling is effortless. Within a single episode you may laugh, cry, gasp, and grip the edge of your seat. The storylines are fun-filled adventures, but mixed with a greater depth of moral questions, such as self-sacrifice and when it is right to kill.

If you are writing a series, consider employing some of these same concepts to keep it fresh, familiar, relatable, and emotionally relevant.

Inspiration Monday

Per Debra’s suggestion, I’ve decided to post some weekly writing prompts, here forward known as, “Inspiration Monday.” Of course, because I won’t get around to getting the post up until 8 or 9 pm CST Monday, most of you won’t see it until Tuesday. But I digress.

The Rules

There are none. Read the prompts, get inspired, write something. No word count minimum or maximum. You don’t have to include the prompt in your piece, and you can interpret the prompt(s) any way you like.

No really; I need rules!

If you work better with guidelines: write 200-500 words on the prompt of your choice. You may either use the prompt as the title of your piece or work it into the body of your piece. You must complete it before 6 pm CST on the Monday following this post.

 

The Prompts

Leftover humans*

Our last kiss

When it looked at me, I screamed

I knew I shouldn’t have published that article

The invention of music

 

If you want to share your Inspiration Monday piece, post it on your blog and link back to today’s post; I’ll include a link to your piece in the next Inspiration Monday post.

Happy writing!

* Today’s first prompt is brought to you by The Book Thief, by Markus Zusak.

Backpacks across the galaxy: how to personalize the epic

Epic-ness is all well and good, but without a personal touch, it can fall flat. We wouldn’t care whether or not Middle Earth fell to Sauron if we didn’t get to know Frodo and Sam along the way. It’s the little, everyday details that make us care; that show us the relevance of the big picture by connecting it to a close-up of the character(s).

This concept really threw me the first time I read Out of the Silent Planet. A man is on a walking tour in England, when he loses his backpack and is kidnapped by two men who take him to an alien planet. He escapes, and spends the next several chapters living among the locals, learning their language and discovering fascinating things about the universe. Then, on page 96, he gets a chance to look through a telescope at a planet the locals call Thulcandra:

He wondered for a moment if it was Mars he was looking at; then, as his eyes took in the markings better, he recognized what they were—Northern Europe and a piece of North America. They were upside down with the North Pole at the bottom of the picture and this somehow shocked him. But it was Earth he was seeing—even, perhaps, England, though the picture shook a little and his eyes were quickly getting tired, and he could not be certain that he was not imagining it. It was all there in that little disk—London, Athens, Jerusalem, Shakespeare. There everyone had lived and everything had happened; and there, presumably, his pack was still lying in the porch of an empty house near Sterk.

This last sentence is so amazing it makes me dizzy. From the alienness of another planet, the hugeness of the universe, the awe of seeing Earth from space, the vastness of human history—to the ordinariness of a backpack left on a porch. This is why C.S. Lewis is my favorite writer; he turns my brain inside out.

Douglas Adams does something similar (but much more humorous) in his Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy trilogy, when Arthur Dent is falling to his death and suddenly remembers he has a bottle of olive oil in his knapsack—possibly the last piece of the Earth left in the entire universe (this realization enabled him to learn how to fly…but that’s another post).

And I experienced something similar when I was driving home from visiting my grandparents last Christmas. We stopped at a Denny’s, and I happened to notice that the walls at this Denny’s had the exact same texture as the walls at home. And although I hadn’t been gone long enough to miss home, I suddenly got a lump in my stomach and felt homesick.

Moral of the post: the details make it meaningful. The next time you are writing a “big picture” scene, consider making your character notice or remember something that gives you a “close up.”