Grabbing Readers by the Throat

I finished writing a new novel earlier this month. After letting it sit a week or so, I started rereading it, revising, and sending preliminary drafts out for critique to my writing group.

Now, you must know that the idea for this novel came to me years ago - when I was only a junior in high school. However, all the pieces didn't click together until now, when the book came rushing out of my fingers and pounded in the keys of my laptop.

When I started writing just a few months ago, I began with a sentence (like all of us do). Let's call that Sentence A.

However, when I looked over my notes, I found another beginning sentence I'd written back in high school. This is Sentence B. Not only was it completely different, but it started me almost two chapters prior in the day than what I wrote in Sentence A.

So, naturally, I decided I'd play out what happened between Sentence B and Sentence A. Five thousand words of exposition later, I had a first and second chapter cluttering up the most important part of my novel - the beginning.

It's not like that information is bad, or not useful, or even boring. Things happen. Important characters are introduced. The world is set up.

But it isn't the RIGHT information. It's not the stuff that readers need to know about the protagonist and the inciting incident right from the very first page.

In fact, one of the women in my writing group said, "It's not like Sentence B didn't grab me. It did. It took me by the hand. But Sentence A grabs me by the throat and doesn't let me go."

The strange part about all of this is that I knew that Sentence A was better. I knew that I had to start my novel there all along.

And you know too.

You know when you read through your draft that that verb is too flowery or that sentence isn't right. You know when your protagonist's monologue that stretches for three pages is way too much dialogue and not enough action. You know that you had to start with Sentence A rather than Sentence B.

That's the beauty of being a writer. All you need is within you. You can feel the self doubt creeping in, whispering "that doesn't work." You hear it, even subconsciously, and it puts this seed inside you that makes you show your work to others and ask, "Hey, what do you think of Sentence B?"

Every time (if they're not lying to save your feelings), your readers and critiquers, and yes, your agents, know that you should cut Sentence B and all that precedes it.

The power lies within you. The hard part is learning to listen to it.

The reward, however, is great. I'd much rather grab a reader by the throat and have them tearing through my novel than lead them timidly by the hand.

BONUS POST: Where Are You Taking Me? (AKA the "But When" method)

Here it is, the bonus post. Earlier today we talked about setting in this post and right now, we're going to do a short rundown on plot.

One of the biggest reasons agents and publishers turn down beautifully written work is because the characters don't go anywhere or do anything. There's no external conflict. Nothing HAPPENS. What all this boils down to is - there's no plot.

Often, the easiest time to see whether or not plot exists is when you're writing a query. Here, you have a scant three sentences - a single paragraph if you're pushing it - to tell an agent why they should take on your book in their limited roster. Ideally, you should be able to summarize the main plot line in your novel in a single sentence.

When you do this exercise, it's very easy to discover if you've got plot or if it's sorely missing. If your sentence reads something like this, you may be in trouble:

Peasant Gretchen wants more than anything to be a knight, even though she's a woman, so she sets out on a quest to prove her bravery.

Okay, we know this story is about Gretchen, a peasant with lofty goals, but we know little about the conflict she will face. This story could easily get lost wandering in circles in the enchanted forest.

Instead, employ the "but when" method. Take a look at this plot line:

Peasant Gretchen wants more than anything to be a knight, even though she's a woman, so she sets out on a quest to prove her bravery, but when a dragon attacks her home, leaving her father crippled, she must decide between following her dreams or doing what is best for her family.

Now, we know the character: Gretchen the peasant.

We know her deepest desire: To be a knight.

We know the inciting incident: A dragon attacks Gretchen's home.

We know the conflict: She must decide between going home to help her crippled father or committing to becoming a knight.

What we also know is that a plot line exists - at least the beginnings of one - and most likely agents and readers will want to read more to figure out how this conflict resolves.


Try the "but when" method with your own novel in progress and see if you've got a plot worthy of publication or if you're still meandering around the same safe enchanted shrub.

Do You Have The Time?

Whether you're writing a mystery novel, literary, or an adventure story, time matters. The sun rises, the sun sets, and humans for as long as we've known that, have measured the time between.

The same care you give time in your daily life has to be given to the time in your story. Your characters must wake, get to work on time (or not), make their scheduled appointments (or not), and do this for weeks, months, or years.

But, being writers, we can manipulate time.

Go on, you know you've always wanted to....

That murder in your mystery novel? What was the time of death? Where were the suspects during that time?

Your literary story. Is the main event or character constrained to a timeline? How about the project he's managing? Is it still on track? Or perhaps there's too much free time in his life and he gets into trouble before anything productive can be accomplished.

And your fantasy or adventure story? How much time should pass between the inciting incident and charter 3? Is it minutes - expanded with fight scenes and description and exposition - or years due to an incredible foot journey?

Manipulate time to your advantage. Give your protagonists a limited amount of time in which to complete their task. Give them consequences if they're unable to accomplish it. Ratchet up the tension as the minutes slip past.

If you can control every aspect of it, why not play that to your advantage? Why not harness time and make it slave for you?

Go on, you know you've always wanted to...

Dialogue Woes

I'm back from my southern vacation. Half of me is glad to be home 1) with my rabbit 2) in my usual routine, and 3) at my job/with my friends again. The other half of me really wishes all these lovely reasons existed in North Carolina right now and I wouldn't have to come back to Wisconsin cold ever again.

It was while contemplating this ambiguity in my own life that I jumped into revising my YA novel and noticed just how convoluted the dialogue in the opening scene was. Yes, that's right - THE MOST IMPORTANT PART OF MY MANUSCRIPT - was confusing.

After quickly thanking my mind for forgetting whatever kind of 'artistic statement' I was previously trying to pull off in that dialogue pre-vacation, I got down to a major overhaul.

Now, it's no secret that I struggle with beginnings. (See this post "Beginnings, The Bane of My Existence" as evidence.) But this time, it was different. I knew I was starting in the right place. My inciting incident was clear and defined and I had a complete grasp on it. I had worked tirelessly pre-vacation to make sure it was not-quite-as-subtle for readers.

But reading it over post-vacation, I noticed just how crappy - yes, downright crappy - the dialogue was. I couldn't even make out what the inciting incident was around all the convoluted dialogue. In the scene, the protagonist is having a conversation with her boss about her performance at work. Seems simple enough, right?

Obviously not for pre-vacation me.

When the protagonist spoke, the response from the other character didn't relate at all to what the protagonist had just said.

If I dramatize it, it looked something like this:

"I hate grilled cheese sandwiches," she said.

"Well, if you jumped off cliffs a little more often, maybe you wouldn't have that problem," he said.

Makes no sense, right?

Then, the stage directions (the things happening around the protagonist, or the action of the characters in the scene) were just as convoluted. Sweat was dripping, noses were being wiped, time and space itself was shifting in the dust motes around the refrigerator between every exchange.

Between the confusing dialogue and the excess amount of direction, I'm surprised any of my beta readers got through it at all.

But here's the lesson I want everyone to get from this:

I first tried to fix the dialogue by replacing and rewriting on the old pre-vacation version. However, I kept looking ahead to see, "what I really needed to keep" and "what passages were really beautiful".

It wasn't until I opened a new computer document and wrote the dialogue from scratch that I had a breakthrough. It wasn't until I let my characters free from their dust mote surroundings and artsy, thesaurus-heavy dialogue that the true magic of dialogue burst free. Suddenly, without me worrying about how I would fit in the burnt coffee metaphor, my dialogue and stage business basically fixed themselves. The characters interacted, the dialogue flowed, what stage business occurred was important and interesting, and most crucially, not distracting.


So, if you're stressed and tired and on the verge of tears over a section of manuscript - take a break, forget your intentions, and when you come back, start fresh. It'll be hard, but remember - that original version will always be there. Where else can you take the story? What other great things can you do?

Planning The Perfect Routine (or, when bunnies are bound to attack)

It was a whopping 50 degrees here in northern Wisconsin and felt downright hot outside. Such a departure from the previous -20 degree nights and 5 degree days. We actually popped a window and felt warm, fresh air for the first time since September.

Spring, for me, means the arrival of warmer weather, puddles, and happier dispositions. It also marks my annual "getting out of here" vacation.

I'll be gone all next week (hint, hint: no new blog post next week - take a break for yourself, too) catching some much needed warmer temps in the southern portion of the USA.

To prepare for this trip, I had to write something new. A care instruction sheet for the person watching my rabbit while I'm away.

It was not more than a page and consisted mostly of bullet points detailing her morning, afternoon, and evening routines, and yet, it was one of the most important pieces I'd ever written. Without this care instruction sheet, the bunny-sitter would have no idea how to properly care for Bun. Without being able to read through her routine, the sitter would not understand why Bun was biting his ankles profusely at seven o'clock in the evening. Without a perfectly understandable and direct care sheet, the unneeded stress inflicted upon the sitter and my Bun would be immense.

And it hit me that something so mundane as writing out a daily routine could mean a great deal if done improperly.

In the moment I reread the care instructions before printing a few copies (in case the first copy was lost, then the backup lost, and the backup's backup lost) I thought of my protagonists daily routines. No doubt he/she has one. Perhaps it's like my rabbit's and takes up, in single spaced font, an entire page. Perhaps their routine is less of an all-day occurrence and more of a morning ritual and bedtime custom.

Perhaps your protagonists lives are so unpredictable that they are reduced to single days in a week - I do laundry on Saturday...I eat fish on Fridays...I get coffee the first Monday of every month...no post on Sundays.

Whatever it is, your protagonists, like my Bun, expect their daily routine to go uninterrupted. And it is when there is an interruption that we have a story on our hands.


So, here's the steps I want you to take:

1. Write down your protagonist's daily routine. If it was the best, most predictable week of their lives, what would they do in the morning, afternoon, and evening of every day? What would their "normal" look like.

2. Implement your inciting incident. What throws the routine out of whack?

3. Document how this will interrupt the protagonist's natural flow of their routine. How will they react to this? What will they do to get things back to their normal?


Trust me, it's one thing to think you know their routine and quite another to have it sitting in front of you. When writing out Bun's routine, I'd thought it'd be simple: feed her this food at this time, clean her soiled litter box, give her cuddles, etc. But actually writing it out in detail caused me to truly focus on how much of a scientific method we have to our coexistence. Your protagonists will have this as well if you intend to make them real, tangible, believable people.

As the weather warms and you air out your house, take the time to stop and air out your novel and its main characters, too. Dive deep into what makes them them. If you do it now, it'll save you a lot of headaches down the road when you're revising for the umpteenth time and still can't get Janet's reaction to event X down pat, or when you're on a twenty-hour car ride to another state and the rabbit sitter can't find the correct bag of veg in the fridge to feed your starving Bun.

Do your planning now. Reap the rewards and relaxation later.

Beginnings, The Bane of My Existence (Why, Yes, This Is Another Late Post)

Late Post Tally #2. Sorry, guys, the holidays have me whirling and I completely forgot about blogging yesterday while waiting for my inner zen to kick in.

Anyway, back to writing.

For me, the hardest part about writing a story (short, novella, or full novel length) is the beginning. Where can you possibly start when all these characters have so much going on, and have had so much going on in their past? Thankfully, we have an answer.

The inciting incident. The inciting incident is the moment that "kicks" your story into motion. It's the place where your character's world is changed forever.

In ye olden times, the narrator of the story would often start with a long history of the protagonist's past (and possibly the antagonist, too). From birth, through childhood, and even an explanation of how the protagonist is now king before all the characters in Act 1 filed onto stage.

In modern times, ain't nobody got time for that. All we need to know is the protagonist is now king, which can be detailed through the first scene, not the first sentence.

We live in an age of thirty second meals delivered through our microwaves or car windows, instant internet shopping (perhaps more instant with the Amazon Drones? We'll see), and laundry that takes a mere half an hour to go from wet to dry and wearable. However, it's important not to get too hasty in the opening of your story. This is the tricky part. If you move too quickly without enough explanation, the reader will get lost and confused.

That's why all those writing teachers always told you not to start off with dialogue as your opening line. The reader is introduced to the story and its problems by a character they don't know anything about, in a setting they have never seen. It'd be like leading you into a dark room, blindfolded and wearing nose plugs, to have someone whose voice you can't recognize, read you a monologue. Kind of jarring.

The key to a great beginning, one that works for publishing and for your story, is to start us off at the inciting incident - the moment your character encounters a problem. Of course this problem will grow and manipulate through the story, but it gives the protagonist something to fight for, something to change their way of thinking and their actions immediately. Start there with enough exposition sprinkled throughout so readers understand the stakes and the world, and you've got a mighty fine beginning.

It's a lot easier said than done, as I'm sure most of you know. That's why beginnings are the hardest part for me. How much is too much? How much is too little? It varies for every single story.

Happy writing!