Writing Words for Nerds #AtoZChallenge--K is for "Kill your darlings"

It’s funny how many times I’ve had to correct inexperienced writers when they talk about the piece of writing advice that says, “kill your darlings.”

Sometimes, they think “kill your darlings” means that a writer should create a darling and beloved character, and then kill that character.  

Yeah, no.

What’s funnier still is that, even though I know this isn’t what it means, I very often do kill my favorite characters. Toren dies (SPOILER ALERT: she doesn’t stay dead. That’s hardly a big spoiler, since that’s not a ghost telling Noa the story at the beginning of Toren the Teller’s Tale. ADDITIONAL SPOILER ALERT: this isn’t The Sixth Sense). I kill off Josh and Ashley in the first chapter of Ride of Your Life, and Tracy and Mack have already been dead for thirty years before the book begins. And Gilbert is already dying at the start of Why My Love Life Sucks, although that’s just so he can become a vampire and Amber’s platonic BFF, literally forever. All things considered, he probably wishes I had actually killed him, but what kind of story would that have been? I’ll tell you what kind: it would have been a very short story.

No, what “kill your darlings” means is that you should get rid of the sentences, turns of phrase or even scenes that are so exquisitely precious that they stick out in your manuscript like diamonds in a cat’s litter box. Diamonds don’t belong there, and neither do those literary darlings. They make the rest of your manuscript look bad. You can either elevate your entire manuscript to that level, or you can do the much more logical thing and “kill your darlings.” Erase them. Cut them out. Edit them out of existence.

Of course, they are darlings, which makes them hard to kill. “But I love them so much!” you might say.

True, true. But aside from being exquisite, what do they add to the story? Do they move the plot along? Do they reveal something about a main character that isn’t revealed any other way? If the answer to both is “no,” kill them. Kill those useless darlings now.

“But . . . But . . .”

*Sigh*

Look, I hear you.

Me, I’m a ruthless editor. You should see one of my mid-editing copies of Why My Love Life Sucks. I took out lots of scene and temporarily left them in the notes section so I could reconsider using them. My daughter loves this draft. She calls it the one “with the deleted scenes.” And some of those deleted scenes are pretty good. Some of them include pretty funny lines. But they didn’t fit. They were useless darlings, and they had to be killed. So I killed them. For the sake of the story as a whole, they didn’t make it into the final draft. And I’m glad they didn’t. I liked those darlings, but I love the story more. And that’s the thing—you have to love your story more.  

Okay, so here’s a compromise for anyone who’s having a hard time killing their darlings: cut and paste them into the notes. That way you can read your story with and without them. You can see if they do anything for your story, or if they’re just pretty diamonds that serve no function and don’t belong. And if you see they really don’t, but you still don’t have the heart to kill them, just take them out. I don’t mean with a gun or on a date. I mean put them aside. Make another document and put all your darlings there. Maybe one day you’ll write something where they actually move the story along. Maybe you won’t. Either way, your current story will be better without them.

Darlings only work when they serve the story. Otherwise . . . If you want readers to love the story, you have to put the story first. 

Writing Words for Nerds #AtoZChallenge--E is for Editing

This blog post is about the most important part of writing, the part that takes a mediocre first draft and turns it into something great. This blog post is about editing.

In Why My Love Life Sucks, Gilbert Garfinkle mentions his simple three-part method for fixing anything: take it apart, figure it out, and fix it. Easy, right? Editing works the same way: you take your story apart, you figure out what parts are working and what parts can be made better, and you fix it.

It’s as simple as that.

For many writers, though, there’s one major obstacle that gets in the way of completing these three simple steps, and it’s another word that starts with the letter E: ego.

I don’t mean that these writers are egotistical and think their first draft is perfect just the way it is (although sometimes that’s the case). I’m referring to the psychological ego, as in a person’s sense of self.

Sometimes the writer is the main thing standing in the way of a story being all that it can be. And it can happen in every stage of editing a story.

Here, let me break it down.

 First, you can’t fix something without taking it apart.

Many newbie writers, however, are reluctant to truly do that to their story. Sure, it can be because they think their story is already perfect, but more often than not, it’s because of insecurity. It’s not so much because they think their story is perfect; it’s more that they’re worried that it isn’t.

They’ve read books that they’ve loved, and they want to be able to write like J.K. Rowling, Rick Riordan, Neil Gaiman, or whichever writer they admire most. The thing they don’t realize is that great books aren’t created by writers who produce perfect first drafts; they’re created by writers who produce imperfect first drafts and aren’t afraid to take them apart and edit them like crazy.  

If that’s not enough to get you over your insecurity, the best advice I can give you is something someone told Tina Fey when she was starting out in improv (and I’m paraphrasing here): don’t worry that it’s going to suck, because it is definitely going to suck. You just have to let go of the idea that that’s a bad thing. It’s not. You have to create something that totally sucks first. Otherwise, you’ll have nothing to fix.

This isn’t just true about you. It’s true about me. It’s true about any writer who’s ever written anything worth reading. From the start, we all have to give our stories permission to totally suck.

So let go of your insecurities, and don’t be afraid to take your story apart. Once you do that, you can move onto the next part of figuring it out.

 Unfortunately, a writer can also get in his own way here, and many writers do. There’s that darn ego again! It’s because many writers have a hard time looking at their stories with objective eyes, and a writer can’t really figure something out if that writer doesn’t even see it for what it is.

Many writers see their story as their baby. Well, I’m sorry, but it’s not. And the sooner a writer accepts that, the sooner that writer can actually figure out what works in the story and what doesn’t. This means the writer needs to check his ego at the door. Again, I mean ego as in a sense of self. A writer needs to understand that this isn’t about him; it’s about the story and only the story.  Okay, maybe it’s about the reader, too, but it most definitely isn’t about the writer.  

If a writer has a hard time separating himself from his story and seeing it objectively (as possible as that is when it comes to something as subjective as what works and doesn’t), there are a few things he can do. He can join a critique group to get different points of view. He can try to find beta readers. He can hire a professional editor. At the very least, he can put his manuscript away for a month so that when he comes back to it, he’s more likely to see it with fresh eyes. But whatever he does, he has to understand that any criticism isn’t about him; it’s about the story, and making the story better.

Finally, we get to the fixing stage.

Now you might think there’s no way the ego could mess this stage up. Unfortunately, you’d be wrong. Because very strangely that insecurity that came with the first stage can often come back at this stage—and sometimes it’s even worse.

This is where a writer can spend an entire day taking one word out and then putting it back in. This is where a writer can suddenly decide after spending a year or more editing and editing and editing a book that it isn’t really the book they want to write. I’ve actually seen talented writers throw out brilliantly written and edited books that were almost done, because something—or possibly someone—told them their books weren’t good enough.

The only solution I have to this is to let it go.

Send your story out to the world. If it really isn’t good enough, a lot of people will probably let you know. But chances are it will be perfect in some reader’s eyes, and then all that work you put in will be worth it. And who knows? Maybe that reader will decide to write a book, too. And then your book will make her feel insecure, because she’ll have no idea how hard you had to work to make your story shine.

E is for editing, and when it comes to writing, editing is everything. 

Peek versus peak and pique--how to recognize which one to use visually

I'm a good speller, but even I get some words confused. When is it "peek," rather than "peak," and vice versa?

I ran into this problem while editing Why My Love Life Sucks: The Legend of Gilbert the Fixer (book one). It's lucky that I noticed it, because it's not the kind of thing spell check picks up.

As a visual learner, I realized the best way to remember which one to use is with a drawing.

Peek has two Es, which are like two eyes peeking. If you can see the eyes peeking, you've spelled it right.

Peak, when spelled with a capital A, has a peak in the middle, like a mountain peak. Remember that the A in peak is a mountain peak, and you'll get that one right too.

Pique has a Q in it, and a lowercase q looks like a monocle. Think of someone wearing a monocle whose curiosity has been piqued. If it helps, think of the i in pique as an upside down question mark asking, "What is that? It piques my curiosity."

peek, peAk and pique: now you can tell which one to use when.

 I hope this helps you too.

Once Upon a Time, enter the “writer”

Once Upon a Time image from Recultured.com

SPOILER ALERT: This is not about something that will definitely happen in the modern-fairy-tale show, Once Upon a Time, but it's something I think will happen. This is based on scenes from previous episodes, so if you haven't seen them yet, don't read this. If my guess is correct, I have to tip my hat to the writers. It's brilliant.

A new character, a stranger, recently appeared in the little town of Storybrooke. 

Here are the things we know so far about this stranger. 

He rides a motorcycle and carries a weird box. Regina, who is the modern-day version of the evil queen, doesn't know who he is, and she's wary of him. 

When Emma questions the stranger about the box, he says he'll show her the contents if she agrees to let him buy her a drink. She agrees. He opens the box to reveal an old typewriter. She asks him why he's carrying it, and he explains that he's a writer. Earlier he tells Henry the box contains something he needs to take care of the thing he came to Storybrooke to do. 

In the following episode, the storybook that contains all the stories of the fairy-tale characters in Storybrooke is stolen from the place where Henry--Emma's son who was adopted by Regina--had hidden it. We later see it's in the stranger's possession.  

Henry knows the rules that govern the town, and according to Henry, outsiders never come to Storybrooke. This means this stranger isn't an outsider. But he also can't be an ordinary resident of Storybrooke, because Henry also says that "bad things" happen whenever residents of the town try to leave it. 

But maybe there's a loophole. 

The fact that the stranger carries a typewriter is very suspicious.

 He says he's a writer, but he's carrying a typewriter, not a laptop or a tablet computer. He's not so old that he might be the kind of writer who refuses to use technology. The typewriter he has is one that writers haven't used in about 25-30 years. Emma is 28 years old, and we know that the day she was born is the day the storybook characters became frozen in time and were banished to our world and the little town of Storybrooke. Why then does this writer use a typewriter from the time Emma was born and the storybook characters became real world characters who are stuck in time, never aging, never changing, and never able to leave?

Henry's storybook tells all the stories of the characters in Storybrooke--which are different from the stories as we know them. In Henry's book--the one now in the stranger's hands--Rumpelstiltskin kills Cinderella's fairy godmother and then grants Cinderella her wishes for a price. Snow White is an outlaw living in the forest, who meets Prince Charming when she robs his carriage. Prince Charming is forced to marry to King Midas's daughter. Nothing is what it's supposed to be.     

Think about it. Let's say you're a storybook character in Storybrooke, and you're unhappy about the way things are. Let's say you come across this book, and you somehow figure out that you're one of the characters in it. You realize all the other people in the town are also characters in the book, and you see that all of you are somehow stuck in this one place and time. How long does it take you to realize that if you want things to chance, you're going to have to change the original fairy tale? 

So you're sitting there looking at this book, and you're thinking about what edits would serve you best. Should you make yourself rich? Handsome? Happy? Brilliant? All the people who were those things in the fairy-tale world are now under Regina's control. No, the smartest thing you could do, would be to write yourself out of the story.

Now you probably think that if I'm right, the writers are very clever, but not really brilliant. Okay, so the stranger wrote himself out of the story. So what? 

Here's the really brilliant part: if the writer did it once, he could do it again. 

A few edits here and there, and the entire fairy-tale back story has to fit the changes. And what changes in the back story, affects the contemporary story line as well. The last time he edited it, he freed himself from the town and from Regina. What happens the next time he edits it? Does someone else get freed? Does someone die? Does he become imprisoned again? And how will this affect everything else? 

This means that at the very moment you think you know it all, the writer can step in and change everything again.  And that means the story could continue over several seasons, each time with something else changing everything. 

Which is very cool.

I love stories about stories and storytellers. I suppose that's obvious considering I wrote Toren the Teller's Tale, as well a blog post about the role of the storyteller in my favorite movie, The Princess Bride. I was still on the fence about Once Upon a Time, but if this show goes in the direction I think it's going, I'm sold. 

What about you? What do you think of Once Upon a Time? Do you have any theories about where it's heading?

Improv for Writers, Part 2 of 3--Mind Games: Five Solitaire Games for Fiction Writers

Last week I talked about my love of Improv and how I use Improv to do everything from coming up with story ideas to raising the stakes to editing. This week, I’d like to give you five Improv games you can play on your own.

It might seem like a strange idea. Improv, after all, is performed in groups; whereas writing is usually a solitary activity. But really when you’re writing fiction, you can have as many people to play Improv games with as you like. You just have to make them up.

Each character should behave like an Improv actor, responding to everything with “yes, and.” This keeps the story moving forward. Try to explore each idea you choose as fully as you can. And if you drop something in early, try to remember to pick it up before the end.

And now, here it is:

Five Games Based on Improv 

Writers Can Play On Their Own

1. Word Association (1-3 minutes)

Technically this is more of a warm up exercise than a game, but it does help you explore ideas or themes in a way that will let you come up with related stories.

Think of something, anything, and then think of all the things you associate with it. Rattle them off as they come to you, whether they make sense or not. You can record them, type them, or just write them down by hand on a piece of paper. (If you like to doodle, you can sketch ideas as well.) If you have someone else who can work with you, they could offer the original suggestion for you to brainstorm. Or if you have an idea of something you’d like to write, you can just start with one word associated with that thing.

For example, let’s say you want to write a YA. YAs are about teenagers, and teenagers go to high school. Your note might look something like this:

The words you come up with can help feed you ideas for the other games, so it’s usually a good way to start. In Improv, all players will come up with their own word lists. Sometimes they’ll actually talk about a topic instead of just listing words. However you do it, this is a good way to start.

2. Who, What, Why, Where, When, How (3-5 minutes)

Every story has to answer these questions. Who are your characters? What are they doing? Why are they doing it? Where are they? When is this scene taking place in regard to the action? (This isn’t about a time period, because something like the Ice Age, Victorian times, or in the future is really more of a where then a when. The when is before, during, or after the action.) How is this story shown? (For example, is it shown as a fairy tale, a romance, or a detective story, or all three at once?)

There are many different kinds of Improv games that are based on taking a scenario with assumptions and replacing a who, what, why, where, when or how with a different who, what, why, where, when or how.

One of these games, for example is Fairy Tale Court. Pick a fairy tale, take two or more characters from it, and come up with a scenario that would explain why one is suing the other. This is all about changing the what. Instead of doing what these characters would normally be doing in the fairy tale, they’re dealing with a lawsuit. You might think this is a where thing, but the court setting is just an extension of the what (the lawsuit).

For a more adaptable game, start with a story that has assumptions about all six. Do a one-minute word-association game related to that story, so you have all of your assumptions before you. Now change one of those assumptions to something very different.  

Let’s use Cinderella as an example. Cinderella has Cinderella as the who, going to the prince’s ball at the castle as the what, falling in love with the prince as the why, Cinderella’s house as the where (for this part of the story), during as the when, and fairy tale for how the story is told. Write each of these down in a separate column. Now below each item, write a different who, what, why, where, when or how. Don’t think too long about each thing you write down. Whatever comes to you first, no matter how crazy it might seem.  

Here’s a chart I wrote for Cinderella:

Cinderella

Who	What	Why	Where	When	How
Cinderella	Go to the Castle	Fall in Love with the Prince	Cinderella’s house	During	Fairy tale
Ugly Sister Stepmother Prince Fairy Godmother Slipper Pumpkin Waitress Nerd Robot Lawyer Chameleon	Sue fairy Get job Teach class Get therapy Sell cosmetics Become famous Make pie Watch TV Exercise Buy car Hire maid Protest Prince Run for Office	Network Research article Murder king Gossip Eat Line Dance Steal painting Cater party Hurt stepsisters Deliver pizza Sing Karaoke Go to bathroom Mock prince	High school Laboratory Zoo A corporation Victorian times The future On a beach Atlantis Japan Video game Alaska Olympus Kindergarten	Before After	Comedy Musical Opera Sci-fi Thriller Steampunk Horror Article Tweets Love Letters Commercial Sports Commentary Court TV

You don’t have to fill out a complete chart, just enough to give you some original ideas. As you can see, there’s no end to the number of variations you can create from just one story.

Writers do this all the time, which is why there are so many variations of some stories. Rogers and Hammerstein’s Cinderella, Ella Enchanted, Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister, Pygmalion, My Fair Lady, She’s All That, A Cinderella Story, Another Cinderella Story, Ever After, and Just Ella are all variations of Cinderella. You can probably think of some more.

This game might be a little overwhelming at first, but it shouldn’t be. Just trust your instincts, no matter how crazy the idea you come up with seems to be. The thing to remember is that whatever you choose to change should be used consistently and in a way that makes sense within the context of your new story. Don’t just drop the change in and forget about it. Explore it fully. If you can’t trust yourself to come up with original changes, ask someone for a suggestion, like a type of person to replace the who or an activity to replace the what.

Once you’ve picked something, ask yourself, “What if?” Taking one idea at random, what if Cinderella was a robot? What if she was built to cook and clean, and what if she wanted something more? What if her fairy godmother was a nerdy guy who fixed her to make her beautiful so she could live her dream? It’s such a fun and interesting idea to explore.

3. Do It in Style (5-15 minutes)

Technically this is just about changing the how (as in how the story is told) of any story, but it can be very helpful for writers to experiment with different styles, so I’m including it as its own game.

Start with a very simple short story. This could be a well-known fairy tale, an ancient myth, a news item, a movie or book plot you’re very familiar with, a Shakespearean play, a Bible story, or even something interesting that happened to you recently. It should have a beginning, a middle, and an end. Now write it in a genre different from the one it was originally.

I’ve done this with students in an English class, and they loved it. Some of the genres a writer can use are children’s book, Dr. Seuss (easier than it sounds,  because you can just make up words if you can’t find a rhyme), spy thriller, romance novel, love letter, complaint letter, job application, horror, high fantasy, steampunk, Biblical, Shakespearean, or newspaper article. If there’s a popular movie or TV show character or celebrity with a particular way of behaving or talking, you can use that too. How would the characters on Jersey Shore act out the story of Cinderella? It could be fun to find out.

Doing it in style helps writers work on voice, which many believe is the single most important quality of every story. As the saying goes, “It’s not what you say, but how you say it.”  

4. Raising the Stakes (3 minutes)

Raising the stakes is an important part of longer Improv games, because it keeps the audience engaged. It can also determine whether your reader will put your book down or feel compelled to keep reading from beginning to end.

In Improv, this game might simply involve having one player playing a character with a goal, while all the other players are required to step in, present an obstacle, and then leave. Or it could require two players to raise each other’s need to achieve their own goals while presenting each other with obstacles. Or raising the stakes could simply be an element of another Improv game.

To play this game as a writer, start by creating a character and giving that character something he or she wants. Now write a list of the reasons that character wants this thing, what it will mean if the character doesn’t get it, and what it will mean if the character does. One part of raising the stakes is about raising the character’s desire, so put these reasons in order from least important to most important.

For example, at first your character might want to pass a test just so he doesn’t fail the class. To raise the stakes, he might later find out that if he doesn’t pass the test, he’ll have to repeat tenth grade. Then he might start thinking about how this will affect his relationship with his girlfriend. Will she break up with him? Each stage here raises the stakes from a simple want to a deep need.  

Next, create a list of the kind of things that might get in his or her way. I like to call this Murphy’s Law for Writers, which I sum up as, “If anything can go wrong (for your main character), it should.” These obstacles have to come out of what it is the character wants, not random, outside obstacles. They can come from the character himself (internal conflict), other characters, or the environment. One of the best obstacles is time itself, because if the main character doesn’t achieve his or her goal by a certain time, it will never happen.  He has to pass the class tomorrow morning, because he won’t get a second chance.

Create other characters to make him need to reach his goal more or to provide obstacles to reaching his goal. For example, his girlfriend could tell him she couldn’t date him anymore if he’s held back a year. That would increase his need to reach his goal. Meanwhile, his best friend invites him to a party at his house, which tempts the main character away from studying for the test, thereby creating an obstacle. An environmental obstacle could be that the main character’s computer breaks down, so he can’t use it to study. Keep raising the stakes and keep having your main character do everything possible to achieve the goal until the question of whether or not your main character gets what he wants is answered. Your audience will be riveted, because your audience will need to know the answer to that question.

Goal: pass test

Raising Desire	Obstacles
Can stop studying Will prove he’s smart Parents are pestering him Needs to pass to move up to 11th grade Parents will be disappointed if he fails Needs to be in same class as girlfriend Needs to keep girlfriend Needs to keep his friends	Party at friend’s house Broken computer Homework he still has to do The book is boring He’s too tired to study Girlfriend wants him to go to party Parents refuse to help Teacher won’t allow a makeup test

You don’t need to use all the things on your lists, but it’s a good idea to explore as many of them as fully as you can. (It can be really funny, though, if you do use everything on both lists and use them very quickly.) Try to raise the stakes physically and specifically, as well as internally and through dialogue. The more dimensions you can give the conflict, the more real it will be for the reader. And the more real it is, the more engaged your reader will be.

5. Rewind (1-3 minutes per rewind)

In Improv this game involves rewinding the last thing you said and saying something else. As writers, we shouldn’t just settle for the first thing we think of. What if the next thing you could have come up with would have been so much better? You won’t know unless you try. So do your story and yourself a favor and rewind.  

This is a great game to play while you’re editing.

If you have a scene you’re not absolutely delighted with, rewind it and take it in a different direction. I often use this for dialogue, but it can also be a good way to raise the stakes. I like to use the comments section in Word for this. If what I come up with is better, I’ll replace the old scene in the document but keep the original scene in the comments section. Don’t be afraid to change anything and everything. Giving you more options can only give you a better, stronger story.

It will also save you from annoying the audience by missing something obvious. Ever watch an action film and think, “Why hasn’t anyone called the cops? There’s a guy running through midtown shooting. Surely at least one person has dialed 911 by now”? If the writer of that movie had gone through all the options, he would have an explanation as to why no one called the police or he would have had the police arrive at the scene.  Explore as many logical possibilities that you can think of, because you don’t, your audience will.     

This is just a small fraction of the number of ways you can use Improv in your writing. 

Next week we’re going to look at Improv games that can work at writers’ workshops, classes, and the like. See you then!

Improv for Writers, Part 1 of 3: How Improv Can Help You Write Faster, Better, and More Creatively

What's Improv?

Improv, for those who don't know, is improvisational theater. It's usually funny, although that isn't a requirement. Most of the cast of Saturday Night Live started out doing Improv. That includes people like John Belushi, Mike Myers, Tina Fey, and Amy Poehler.

Improv actors are able to write dialogue on the spot. Steve Carell, who played Dunder-Mifflin Regional Manager Michael Scott on The Office, started out in Improv, which allowed him to ad lib many of his lines on that show. Stephen Colbert of The Colbert Report also credits Improv as a major influence on his work. Drew Carey and most of the cast of the Drew Carey Show knew Improv and were able to show off their skills in several episodes. One of my favorites is an episode where they rewind a scene so that the actor who last spoke has to come up with and deliver an alternate line.  They really got to show off their creativity.

What can Improv do for writers?

Studying Improv can teach writers to think on their toes, trust their instincts, and change everything and anything at a moment's notice. In Improv there's no time for doubt. You just do it. What you come up with might be rubbish, but that's okay. Just rewind and come up with an alternate line, character, scene, or whatever. And if that's still rubbish, rewind and come up with another alternative, again and again until you find something you're happy with. It works for Tina Fey, who won a Mark Twain Award for humor and several Emmy Awards. It works for Steve Carell and Stephen Colbert. It can work for you too.

Here are some specific skills writers can learn from Improv:

Look at old things in new ways

Every story has a who (characters), what (actions), why (motivations), where (setting), when (before, during, or after), and how (style, narrative voice, or genre). Many Improv games are about taking one of these elements out and replacing it with something else. For example, if you take the who out of Cinderella and replace with a different who, you could have Cinderfella, Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister, Pygmalion, or My Fair Lady, to name just a few. Break down any old fairy tale, Shakespeare play, Biblical story, ancient myth, or other very old (pre-1900s) classic to its parts and change one element to come up with a completely new story. Rick Riordan took Greek Myths and changed the where to modern-day America to create the Percy Jackson series. It's amazing what changing just one thing can do.

Move the story forward

The two most important words to remember in Improv are "yes, and." What this means is that when someone offers you a suggestion, you take that suggestion and add something to it. The answer can never be “no,” and it can never be “yes, but.” It also can't be a simple yes. You always have to add something. You always have to be moving the story forward.

For example, if a fellow Improv actor gives you the suggestion "let's go to the movies," your answer shouldn't be "no, I'd rather stay home" or "yes, but let's go get ice cream first" or just a simple "that's a great idea." Instead it should be something like "there's a great new thriller I'd like to see."

Dig deep

In most Improv games that are performed on stage, the audience is asked to provide a suggestion, such as a genre, an occupation, a situation, a personality type, or even something as specific as a fairytale. The scene must be based on whatever suggestions you take from the audience. It's important to use the audience's suggestions as fully as possible. You can't just use or mention the suggestion once and then go off to something completely different. If, for example, you're playing Fairy Tale Court and the audience suggests Cinderella as your fairy tale, you can't just call the defendant Cinderella and ignore her cleaning, glass slippers, fairy godmother, pumpkin coach, and so on. Whatever you make your story about, dig deep. Try to explore it as fully as you can.  

Avoid a sagging middle by raising the stakes

In longer Improv games, it's important to keep raising the stakes. It keeps your audience engaged and interested—same thing as in writing.

There are two ways to raise the stakes. The first is by the main character wanting whatever it is he wants even more. The second is by giving him more obstacles.

These obstacles can be internal or external but they have to come out of whatever it is the character wants. They can’t just be random obstacles thrown at the main character. If, for example, your main character wants to ask a girl out for a date, the obstacle shouldn't be that first he has to get past a thug who's threatening to break both his legs if he doesn't pay back the money he owes. It can be that he's shy, his best friend confesses he's attracted to the girl, the girl has an overprotective dad who never likes any of his daughter's boyfriends, and a million other things that have something to do with the idea of a boy asking a girl out for a date.  

Don't underestimate your story--let it shine

Another thing writers can learn from Improv is that it helps to play things big. For example, if you ask for a character type, and the audience gives you “angry,” your character shouldn't be passive aggressive. If your character is supposed to be angry, he should be very angry. I wouldn't recommend playing everything at eleven on a scale of one to ten. (Yes, that's a deliberate This Is Spinal Tap reference, because that's Improv too.) That would probably be going overboard and it might turn off the audience. Plus, everything played at eleven make the volume irrelevant, because there's nothing to compare it to. A performance ranging between five and nine (with an occasional, brief ten or eleven) would probably be a good idea.

Trust your instincts

Most Improv games are only a few minutes long, and some can be even shorter. There's no time for doubt, so you just have to go with whatever pops into your head first. It might not make sense, but if you stick with it, you'll see there's a reason why that thing popped in your head.

In the very early years of Improv at one performance, an actor brought back a certain idea based on a suggestion long after it was offered. The audience loved it. The group asked themselves what this should be called, and someone suggested, “What about Harold?” So a “Harold” is when someone brings back an idea much later in the sketch or even in another sketch.  

There's a lesson in this for writers: if you dropped something in your story early on, there's probably a reason you did. You might not know what that reason is yet, but trust your instincts. Don't just drop something into your story, think “Well, that doesn't make any sense,” and then just forget about it. Readers will love it when you bring that stuff back. Consider it foreshadowing. That thing you dropped in might not have made much sense in the beginning, but when you bring it back, it will make perfect sense. That's a first-rate Harold. 

And if you bring something in only near the end, see if you can introduce it in the beginning. The foreshadowing will turn it from something sneaky into something brilliant. I call this a reverse Harold. You can't do this in real Improv, but as a writer you can get away with some things actors performing live in front of an audience can't. It might be cheating, but don't worry. I won't tell. 

Don't be afraid to change everything and anything

When you get to something that seems weak or ineffective--whether it's a character, piece of dialogue, or a scene--press rewind. Then rewrite that thing in a different way, or even two or three different ways. The more choices you have, the better it will be. 

Leave the audience wanting more

It's usually best to end an Improv game at a high point, because anything else after it will be downhill. The suggestion should be fully explored and whatever conflicts or questions the audience might have should be resolved in a satisfying way. Then the story should end. This is also true for the end of your story.  Leave the reader feeling satisfied but wanting more.

Now look at your own writing and ask yourself, "What can Improv do for you?"

Next week, I'll be sharing with you five Improv games you can play on your own. See you then!

Writers, How Do You Find the Diamond In the Rough Draft?

As I'm working on editing Toren the Teller’s Tale, I’m reminded of an old joke:

How do you become a millionaire?

Step one: get a million dollars. . . .

Becoming a great author is a little like that. Step one: write a great book. But it’s also a little different, because that really is just the first step. After that comes editing, usually lots and lots of editing. 

Some writers hate editing, but I actually love it. I love fixing stuff, and that’s what editing is all about: fixing your current draft to make it so much better. 

A recent Twitter chat for writers asked, “How do you know when your manuscript is ready?” My answer is that it’s never ready, because you never stop growing as a writer. Tomorrow you’ll probably learn something you didn’t know today. But at some point you have to say, “This is the best I can do right now,” and that’s when you send it out into the world. 

You could always hire a good freelance editor or book doctor: someone with a better understanding of what sells and years of experience at a traditional publishing house. But you can’t really learn from your own mistakes if you have someone else fix them for you. And you do want to learn. You want to be able to see the things an editor would fix, so you can fix them yourself or avoid them altogether. Here are some tips to get you started:

12 Tips for Polishing Your Novel

1. Learn to read analytically. Read a lot of books in your chosen genre. Ask yourself what you like and what you don’t like, where your attention is grabbed and where it lags, and what the author is doing to make you feel these things. It’s okay not to like something popular or even a classic. The only thing you need to figure out is why you feel this way. Then you can apply what you’ve learned to your own writing. Because if you don’t like that it took the writer three chapters to get his story started, why would another reader like that in your book? You can also analyze other forms of storytelling, like movies or TV shows. Ask yourself why something was done and how it affects you, the audience. Then ask how you can apply that to your writing. 

2. Read books on writing, style, and self-editing. The two I think every novelist should have are Self-Editing for Fiction Writers, Second Edition: How to Edit Yourself Into Print by Browne and King, and The Elements of Style (4th Edition) by Strunk and White. The Elements of Style is the simplest, cheapest, and shortest book on things like punctuation and syntax; but if you find it too dry, some writers prefer Eats, Shoots & Leaves: The Zero Tolerance Approach to Punctuation by Truss, which is longer but more entertaining. The Chicago Manual of Style is considered the best style book, but it’s expensive. The Associated Press Stylebook is cheaper and a good alternative. Some rules differ from book to book, so whichever style choice you make, be consistent. I also recommend The Comic Toolbox by Vorhaus and by Maass for tips on how to write a compelling story.

3. Join a critique group. Once you’ve internalized all you’ve learned from analyzing stories and reading books on writing--and you’ve applied that to your work--your manuscript should be ready for a critique group. Of course, that doesn’t mean you are. It can be hard to hear what others think of your precious baby. But you do need to develop an emotional distance from your own writing. Remember that you didn’t write your book for you; you wrote it for your potential readers. A critique group is your chance to see it from a reader’s perspective. Don’t respond to a critique, except to say thank you, and do ask questions in a non-confrontational way if the critique isn’t clear. Never forget that it’s your story, and only you can make changes to it. Use the advice that resonates with you, and forget the rest. Another great thing about joining a critique group is that it lets you hone your analytical skills. I think I’ve learned more in critiquing the works of others than I have in getting my own work critiqued. If you can’t find a spot in a good critique group, you can always create your own. That’s what I did. I advertised online on the SCBWI boards, and my critique group, the Fantasyweavers, was born. Most writers’ conferences also offer professional critiques for a fee. If you’re lucky, it could be the best thing about going to a conference.

4. Aim for clarity above all else. Writing is a form of communication. If you aren’t clear, you haven’t successfully communicated what it is you wanted to say. Rewrite it. Don’t write in an effort to impress the reader with your literary prowess. Keep it clear, simple and focused, and your reader will get what it is you’re trying to say.

5. Establish visuals early on and keep them consistent. As a reader, I hate to have to erase the image I’ve already painted in my mind because the writer failed to tell me something twenty pages earlier. I once read a book where I thought one character was white, only to discover in the next book in the series (yes, an entire book later!) that he was Chinese. This is true for characters and settings. Think of it like a movie, and start with an establishing shot. Let the reader ground himself in your story. It doesn’t have to be detailed, but if you let the reader fill in the blanks early on, don’t fill them in for him later in the story.

6. Make sure you have a beginning, middle, and end. Is there a hook on the first page, something the reader needs to know and won’t find out unless he reads the book? Do you raise the stakes in the proceeding chapters by giving the main character more obstacles to what he or she wants to get, obstacles that are related to whatever the hook or central conflict is, not just random obstacles that have nothing to do with them? Is the resolution of the story’s central conflict satisfying, and does that resolution come from the main character’s own choices and actions?  It doesn’t have to be a happy ending, but it does have to be a resolution that puts an end to whatever the central conflict was. Romeo and Juliet ends with the main characters dead. You can’t have a more final resolution than that.

7. Kill your darlings. Some writers think this means you should kill off your favorite characters, but that’s not it at all. Everything has to be in your story for a reason. It has to move the story forward, set the mood, and/or give readers a deeper understanding of your characters. “Your darlings” refers to stuff you’re proud you wrote because it’s just so well written. If doesn’t have a reason to be in your story beyond being pretty, cut it out. Doesn’t matter if it’s single word, a paragraph, a chapter, or even a character (very often multiple characters carry out duties that could be better carried out by just one), cut it out. And if it really is that great, put it aside. Maybe someday you’ll write a story where it does move the story forward, set the mood, and/or give readers a deeper understanding of your characters. Put these darlings in that story, but not here.

8. Be flexible. A recent article in Popular Science pointed out that, since the Rosetta Stone, writing has become less and less permanent. We’re now writing in virtual clouds, for goodness sakes! It was a lot harder to change your words hundreds of years ago when it had to be written by hand on very expensive paper. Now it couldn’t be easier to do it on your computer. Try to think like an Improv actor. Sure, you wrote your scene this way, but what if you wrote it that way? When I was editing Why My Love Life Sucks: The Legend of Gilbert the Fixer, I often wrote several versions of different scenes so I could choose the best one. I would then move the other version into Word’s comments section, so I never really lost anything. (My daughter likes reading this version of the novel, which she calls the one with the “outtakes.”) Sometimes I’ll use the comments section to write down ideas for changes while I’m still writing the first draft.  It’s better than losing them because I didn’t write them down right away.  Give it a try. It could make your story a lot better, and you have nothing to lose, so why not?
 

 A “Scenes From a Hat” game from the Improv show Whose Line Is It, Anyway?

9. Make everything in your story matter. This isn’t the same as killing your darlings, although it might seem like it. This is about adding depth and meaning to the things that are moving your story forward, setting the scene, or revealing your characters. So how do you do this? I’ve found the best way is by making everything matter to your main character. If it matters to him or her, it will matter to the reader. There’s a huge difference between just any old rag doll and a rag doll your fifteen-year-old main character hugs when she’s lonely because it’s the best friend she’s ever had.

10. Show, don’t tell . . . except when it’s better to tell. Many beginning writers go a little overboard on the whole “show don’t tell” thing. There are times to tell and times to show. The important thing is to know when to do which. If your character is having an important discussion with another character, that’s a good time to show. If your character then goes home, eats dinner, goes to bed, wakes up when the alarm clock rings, eats breakfast, and does a lot of stuff that really doesn’t matter, that’s a good time to tell. “. . . she said, and then she turned around and walked away. The next day . . .” Bam, right into the next thing that matters. That’s the way to do it.

11. Follow all the rules? Um, no. This is related to show don’t tell, but it’s not just that. I think writers have to know the “rules,” because only in knowing the rules can you break them with good reason. One of the “rules” that drives me nuts is the one regarding incomplete sentences. Incomplete sentences can be very powerful in the right situations. The same goes for starting a sentence with a conjunction. There’s a difference between “Ashley looked up at the towering Ferris wheel” and “The Ferris wheel towered over Ashley. She looked up. And up. And up.” The latter gives you a better sense of how overwhelmed Ashley feels by how tall the Ferris wheel is.

12. Once you’re done, put it in a drawer for a month. Then go over the whole thing again, hopefully with more distance and a better, more objective perspective. Read it out loud. (After all, if it ever becomes an audio book, someone will have to read it out loud.) If you have text-to-speech software you can use, or you can transfer your book to your Kindle and listen to it, you should. Sometimes you’ll be able to hear things your eyes might miss, like a repeated word or sentence, or a typo. Printing your story on paper can also give you a different perspective. Again, if there are changes you’re not sure of, use the comments section in Word to jot them down. Try it both ways, and pick the one you like best.

This is certainly not a complete list of tips, but hopefully it’s enough to get you started. I know many authors do things quite differently. How about you? Do you have any editing tips you’d like to share? If so, I hope you’ll leave them in the comments section below. I’d love to hear them.