joconklin Editing Tips, Tech Tips, Writing Tips

Backing Up your Writing

I’ve lost work. Hasn’t everybody? Mine was a hard drive failure that deleted dozens of short stories and partial manuscripts I’d collected over the years, back when cloud backup wasn’t anything as accessible or cheap as it is today. I had printed copies of some of those, backup diskettes of others, but a few are gone forever.

It’s understandable! We writers are not necessarily also computer people. We come from all kinds of backgrounds and walks of life, so the routine, rigorous backup and version control practices of software programmers may not be something we’re even aware of. But since I was lucky enough to marry into the ranks of nerdery (who was HORRIFIED at my chaotic-evil approach to file management), I have unlearned some bad habits that put my work at risk.

Don’t: Work From the Same Document Every Day

You don’t have to lose a whole file to lose work. Sometimes it’s a matter of finding out that you don’t like the changes you made yesterday, but since Undo only goes back to the last save, you’re stuck. Or finding out that you hit a wrong button at some point (who knows when?) and deleted large chunks of your document.

Do: New Day, New File

Every day that I write, step one is to create a new document. The document name begins with the date in year-month-day order, then a file name. For instance, on August 1, 2022, I opened my work in progress with the working title Uncoupled, and saved it as 2022-08-01 Uncoupled. This applies whether I’m working in Scrivener, Google Docs, or Word/Libreoffice. Then I work from this new file that day. Tomorrow I will start off my session by saving a new copy, 2022-08-02 Uncoupled.

This means that if a file gets corrupted, I’m unlikely to lose more than a day’s work. It also means that if I make a major change, such as from 1st person to 3rd, I can roll those changes back simply by opening an older version of the book. If I accidently delete a section without knowing, I can retrieve it from an earlier version. It also proves provenance if I have to show that I am the creator of a work in copyright dispute.

Don’t: “FinalFinalFinaldraftWIP.doc”

Is it “really” your final draft, though? One of the biggest traps we writers fall into is thinking a work is done, then having to tack on new words to try and distinguish it from the last time we thought that work was done. Also, what about when this is no longer your Work In Progress? How would you find this in a file search, or know at a glance which project this is when you’ve written three more books?

Do: “<Date><Working Title>.doc”

Again, if a file is labeled 2022-08-01-Uncoupled.doc (My current WIP) and stored in a folder specifically for this project, I can sort by date and see at a glance that this is my most recent version. I don’t need to label it “Final,” despite the emotional satisfaction of doing so. It’s also easy to find in a search, if I don’t know where I put it in a few years. I can be confident that there isn’t a FinalFinalFinalFINALdraftWIP.doc floating around somewhere that replaces this one. And, by including the date in the name of the file, I don’t have to worry that if I open an older version and hit save by accident, it marks the “last edited” date in the system to make it appear the most recent version.

Don’t: Keep Files in Multiple Local Folders

At one point, I had separate folders for “Drafts” “Querying” and “Books.” The first book I wrote had versions of it spread over all three folders, and one hanging out randomly on my desktop. (Did I mention my ADHD?) I hadn’t yet started good file name practices, so each of those folders contained a version of my project labeled “Final Draft,” and every single one of those “Final Draft” files was slightly different. So which one was my real final draft? I had opened and closed them enough that the system dates were unreliable. I could use specialized software to compare the versions and discover where they differed, but chances were, I was rolling dice and losing edits.

Do: Keep Drafts in a Single Central Location and Link

I decided to use a folder structure of Writing –> Books –> Title for my central repository. There I have all of my notes, scrivener and doc files, and even images for mood boards. I do have a separate Writing –> Query folder, where I keep query specific documents. But that folder contains a link to the draft I’m currently querying, not a separate copy. That way, if I spot a stray typo before sending out pages or full MS, I can correct it, and that change will reflect back on the central copy of the MS. I’m not breaking the chain, and that correction will be preserved if I go back and do a round of revisions between queries.

When I do make changes, however, I save a new dated version as backup. The querying copy is an exception to the naming protocols because it should be <last name>_<Title>.doc for purposes of attaching the file for agents. But it should also exist as a dated draft in the main folder, for future edits.

Don’t: Only Save In One Location

Computers fail. Hard drives fail. Files glitch. Theft happens. Malware happens. It’s easy to lose sight of just how impermanent electronic documents are. Some folks get around that by using only the cloud, such as working directly from Google Docs or Dropbox. But those accounts are just as vulnerable as your local machine.

Do: Minimum 1 Physical Drive, 1 Cloud

This is a bare minimum! The physical drive can be a laptop, desktop, external HD, anything that stores the files locally to a device that is within your physical control. The Cloud can be any of several paid or free cloud services, including Dropbox, OneDrive, Pcloud, or Google Docs. Your writing habit should include opening your writing session with a new file name, and ending it by saving a copy of that file to a new location. If you work from Dropbox, make a local copy on your machine at the end of the day. If you work from your local machine, save a copy to the cloud.

Again, that’s a minimum. Backup redundancy is always a good idea, but does require more discipline. Some authors will work from their laptop, backup their work to an external hard drive, then make separate backups to two cloud services. Those authors are very unlikely to ever lose more than a day’s work.

I split the difference, personally. My ADHD makes it important that my routines are as simple and automated as possible. So I work from my laptop, using Scrivener for drafting and LibreOffice for final layout/edits. Scrivener has the option to set a backup destination and back up your file with one click, but LibreOffice requires an extra step of “Save As” at the end of the day. I backup to PCloud. Once a week or so, I copy my entire writing folder into a zip file and store it in Dropbox for an additional reserve.

Dropbox and Pcloud do have automated options that will back up your files and folders, but after a glitch where Dropbox overwrote my local laptop files with the older cloud version, costing me a day’s work and 5K words on a first draft, I prefer to back up manually.

Takeaways

The most important things you can do to save yourself from losing your work are to work from a new, dated copy of the file each day, stored in a single central folder, and back it up to at least one separate location.

joconklin Editing Tips, Querying Tips, Self Care, Social Media, Twitter Pitch Parties, Writing Industry, Writing Tips

How I Got My Agent

Here it is, the traditional, ginormous, over-the-top, all-the dish, “How I got my agent” post!

I’ve included my successful query letter at the end. I’ll also break out individual pieces into future blog posts as well, going into more depth with the strategies that worked for me. Please note that no one path to publishing is going to be right for everyone. I have a great deal of privilege going into this process, along with some big disadvantages, and that affected my approach and results. The goal is always to build a big toolbox, then use the most effective tools for the job in front of you.

BACKGROUND

I always had plans to be a writer, from the short story I wrote in kindergarten about a ghost who was really bad at scaring people, to the truly tragically, hilariously awful fanfiction I wrote in my teens about Star Trek (big crushes on Chekov and Worf) and Batman Forever (Hellooo Chris O’Donnell!) I still have those fanfiction notebooks, by the way, and do solemnly swear that if I ever make it to NYT Bestseller lists, I will release pages of it every April Fools Day to show that writing skill can be acquired through practice, and doesn’t have to exist as an innate trait. So if you’re curious, then buy my books and recommend me to others.

After my meandering path of career changes into my 40s, my partner earned his doctorate in mathematics and got a job offer that we could both live on. With his support, I had a rare opportunity to take my filing cabinets full of bits and pieces of half-formed ideas and unfinished scenes, and set out full-time on a self-directed study of how to be a writer.

BOOK ONE: PUNCH DRUNK MAGIC

I wrote my first full book, Punch Drunk Magic, in the summer of 2018, after searching endlessly for a certain kind of book I wasn’t able to find. It was a not-so-cozy suburban mystery about witches, romance, and identity within a generational community. In the meantime, I started brushing off old social media accounts and joining online writing groups for advice, reading voraciously, and searching for resources on the business end of writing. I learned about the query trenches, synopses, beta readers, and comps. I devoured every piece of advice I could find, sifting through it for patterns so that I could figure out which to follow. I believed so hard in this book. It was everything I wanted to read – sexy, angsty, magical, and subversive. When I sent it off to beta readers, they loved it (except for one who said there was too much kissing for a mystery, but I forgave them).

Then it was time to enter the dreaded query trenches.

THE QUERY LETTER

It turns out that writing a book and writing about a book are two completely different skill sets. So if you’re struggling with your query letter, you are not alone, or a bad writer. You are trying a new writing form for the first time, and it takes practice.

Luckily, I found The Query Shark at https://queryshark.blogspot.com/. Agent Janet Reid runs the blog were she takes queries submitted for critique, and shows us the editing process, often through multiple iterations. To this day, the number one advice I offer any querying author is to go to the Query Shark blog, navigate to the archive, and read ALL 300+ query critiques. After every 20-30 critiques, stop and revise your query letter with what you’ve learned, so the new tips don’t get lost in the shuffle.

That sounds like a slog, right? But again, you’re developing an entirely new skill set, and this blog is a master class in crafting a tight, dynamic, voice-driven query letter. There’s no shortcuts to learning a new skill. Put in the time. Do the work. You can start as soon as you have a rough draft or outline of your book and pick away at 20-30 critiques and one revision a week. Once you have a finished book, you have a polished query letter ready to go.

Note that some agents have specific requirements for query letters that don’t match Query Shark’s (e.g. loglines, housekeeping info at the top). Always defer to the individual agent’s requirements, and poke around to see if that agent has posted sample queries you can use as a guide.

I’ve included my successful query letter at the end of the post.

THE SYNOPSES

Again, writing a book and writing about a book are two very different skill sets! The synopsis is the most hated step of the querying process for a lot of authors. And no, that’s not a typo in the section title. You need two. One is a 1000 word version for agents who either don’t specify, or ask for a 2+ page version. The second is a 500 word version for agents who request a one-page synopsis.

Start with a “however long it takes” synopsis. Stick to ONLY your main character’s story and the central conflict. For each chapter or major scene, write out one sentence saying what happens, one sentence describing how the character’s choices or actions led to that event, and one sentence describing the effect of the event on the character or central conflict. Once you have an outline, you can smooth it down to just the major turning points of the story instead of every scene, eliminate any side characters who crept in there, and eventually, make sure it reflects your narrative voice. Then chop it down to just the absolute critical events (inciting incident, midpoint, all-is-lost, ending) for the 500 page version.

If you’re struggling to identify the major plot points that go into a synopsis, I recommend starting with the beats described in the books Save the Cat, and Save the Cat Writes a Novel. For Romance genre, I recommend Romancing the Beat.

I’ll go more into query letters and synopses in future blog posts.

THE AGENT LIST

I do use Query Tracker, but the interface wasn’t intuitive enough for me for tracking and hid some information I wanted to see at a glance. I created a separate spreadsheet using Google Sheets to create a master list of agents. To start, have one sheet in the workbook that serves as a master list of all agents you’re interested in. You’ll do a separate sheet to track querying for each project.

I’ll do a separate post to go into more detail, but you’ll want to start with Query Tracker and search for anyone who reps your genre. For each agent, use their agency wishlist, the Manuscript Wishlist site, and social media (especially Twitter) to determine whether your book would be a good fit. Take notes as you go, as it will help you personalize your query letter later and make good choices. Save links to interviews or blog posts they’ve made. I then scored each agent 1-10 based on how well my book fits their wishlist.

Once you have a complete list, my next step was to subscribe to Publishers Marketplace for one month. I went through each agent and agency and took extensive notes on what they’ve sold in my genre (or if they’re a new agent, what the lead agents that might be mentoring them have sold), who they sold it to, and when. If you start with a complete list, you can cram this work into a month and then cancel the subscription if you can’t afford to maintain it. You’ll want to resubscribe if you get an offer, though, so that you can get recent information and dig more deeply into the offering agent(s). Then, of course, you’ll want to re-subscribe long-term once you’re published, to maintain an author account and your book listings.

You can do some of this work for free through Query Tracker, the agency website, and individual authors’ acknowledgment pages, but it is a lot more time and effort. If you can afford the month of PM at this stage, it’s a good investment.

Now you should be ready to sort your agents into A, B, and C tiers based on how much you want to work with them, as well as flagging (not deleting—always keep your research) anyone you absolutely do not want to work with. An A10 agent is a dream match. A C1 agent might not be worth querying, at least not until much later.

SOCIAL MEDIA

When I set out to be an author, I found a lot of advice and resources through social media, including several of my most trusted beta readers, free workshops and courses, and advice. While the primary focus should always be on writing the best possible book and refining your craft, all three offering agents mentioned my social media following as a positive factor in their decision.

I currently keep a Twitter account that’s primarily a professional writing account, and a Facebook account where I participate in a lot of writing groups and workshops. I’ve switched a lot of my Facebook activity to an author page to build interaction, and linked it to my Instagram, which I’m still building and figuring out how to use effectively. (Right now I just post writing quotes and dad jokes).

Before 2018 I barely used my Twitter account for anything and only had a couple of followers. I set out to deliberately build a writing community around me before I queried my first book. It took almost four years to pass 14K, so it’s worth starting early so you don’t have to have a crash course in social media in the short time between signing an agent and going on sub. Trust me, you’ll have enough to do then!

QUERYING

I sent out my first batch of query letters to a mix of A and B tier agents in January 2019, and mixed it up with Twitter pitch parties. I got a few requests from DVpit and SFFpit in 2019. Overall, I sent 38 queries for Punch Drunk Magic between January and May 2019, with 8 requests for partial or full. Then I declared it dead.

This was a brutal process, and I have absolute sympathy for anyone who quits, goes indie, goes straight to publishers, etc. Those are valid paths, but didn’t fit my own long-term career goals. But the querying trenches are harrowing, without a doubt. I was even playing on easy mode, not having to wonder if my race or ethnicity was a factor in the rejections. I knew it came down to my story and the market, and I didn’t make the cut.

BOOK 2: A WITCH IN WINE COUNTRY

What kept me going, aside from sheer stubbornness, was that I had already started a new book. Once Punch Drunk Magic was out there and I only had to occasionally send an email or update a spreadsheet, I took some excellent advice and turned to a completely unrelated story. By the time Punch Drunk was ready to be shelved, A Witch in Wine Country was ready for beta readers, and I started the whole process again.

The thing is, once I had finished writing and revising the new book, I picked up Punch Drunk just to read for fun. With the benefit of more experience, I could see the problems in that first book that I could not see when I was querying it. The characters were underdeveloped. There were some plot holes. The line-level writing was choppy. I used cliches, like starting with the character waking up and describing herself in a mirror. If I had thrown it out there on Amazon as a self-pub, I’d be a little embarrassed of it now. It’s still a good story, and I hope to dust it off and revise it in a few years, but it wasn’t ready.

Overall, I sent out 45 queries for Wine Country and participated in Twitter pitch parties between February and July 2020. I immediately noticed a pattern compared to the previous book. My rejections took longer and were more personalized, so I was hitting more “maybe” piles. I received 6 requests for more material, but more full requests than partials. Then, in September 2020, I hit the next marker in what I considered progress in my writing craft—a revise and resubmit from an agent I really wanted to work with. The feedback was sparse, but I took the bit in my teeth and ran with it, doing a full re-write, adding depth to characters and re-shaping the plot. Unfortunately, I revised it too far away from the agent’s wishlist, and they passed. While I think it ended up a much stronger book, it also ended up a much different book, so I don’t blame them for deciding it was no longer a good fit for them.

In 2021, while struggling with a new project along the same lines, I sent Wine Country back out to beta readers, including, this time, a published author I met through a Facebook group who was able to give me higher-level professional advice. In short, the feedback was that I was trying to do too much in one book. It had a central romance plot, but also a women’s fiction plot, a murder mystery, and paranormal elements, all competing for equal billing. The blend of genres was similar to gothics, but it didn’t have enough of the gothic tropes and vibe to market it as such. I needed to pick a central plot and let the others take supporting roles if I wanted the book to be marketable. I had the same issue with my current WIP, which was stuck at the midpoint.

BOOK 3: TIMBER (THE ONE)

So to focus myself and recover from the disappointment of querying, I set out to write a pure, single-genre contemporary romance. My goal was to really nail down the romance plot with all the genre beats, and narrow in on the character development around that plot. I needed to make writing fun again, so I picked something completely out of my wheelhouse and as different from the previous books as I could get—a lumberjack romcom. It was such a cliché that it begged for a revival. So I put my lumberjacks on the set of a reality TV show and cast it all through a queer, gender-subversive lens. I also put some craft books to work (Save the Cat, Save the Cat writes a Novel, and Romancing the Beat) sketching out each chapter and matching it up with genre beats before beginning the first draft. Hats off to my poor partner, who watched three seasons of Axe-men with me for research, and then listened to me info-dump everything the TV show got wrong according to the behind-the-scenes articles and forum threads from real loggers.

I started querying Timber in October 2021, picking up whoever was still open over the holiday season. Then in 2022, I took a few weeks and just blasted queries, hitting an agent at every agency on my list by the end of February. From 71 queries sent, I received 13 requests for more materials, and, in June 2022, an offer of representation.

I had, at this point, given up on Timber and was ready to shelve it and move on. It hit hard, the rejections on this third round. My partner was talking me out of quitting writing and looking for a job every month or so. I was researching self-publication marketing in earnest, even though it didn’t fit my career goals. When the email asking for a phone call came in, right after a rejection on a full, I had to read it three times to understand that it wasn’t another rejection.

THE CALL

The phone call was like a miracle. Not only did she love my book, she GOT my book. She understood what I was going for (a m/f romance through a queer lens, kicking off an eventual series of various queer pairings) in a way that made me feel seen. She loved my characters for the same reasons I did, and her editorial goals was to make my book more of what we both loved about it, not turn it into something else. She supported my interest in writing in multiple genres in the future, and had ideas for how to map that kind of career. Most importantly to me, she’s an editorial agent, and writing the best book I can is as important to me as selling it.

I immediately contacted everyone who had a Timber query and hadn’t responded yet, even those that were six months old that technically would be considered timed out. This resulted in two additional offers and an outpouring of personalized, supportive rejections congratulating me on my offer (in case anyone though agents didn’t care, the good ones really do want to see authors succeed).

My next step was to weigh the different offers. I reviewed the agency sample contracts with my partner, who is one of those people who reads court briefs for fun. Yeah. I don’t get it either, but it sure comes in handy when reviewing legal documents.

In the end, the deciding factors will be different for everyone. For me, it came down to:

  • The editorial approach and this agent’s background in editing that would make this book shine in a very crowded market
  • The contract that seemed the most fair and balanced with an assumption of good faith
  • A boutique agency where agents had a strong cooperative working style, experienced mentors, and a mission of inclusion/diversity in publishing that I feel strongly about
  • The connection this agent had with my book and her enthusiasm for working with it!

AFTER THE OFFER

A few things to keep in mind that I haven’t seen passed around as advice for a newly offered author, and should be:

1. You can request changes to the contract. Probably not something extreme like fee percentages, but if you see a clause in one agency’s contract that you wish existed in another, don’t hesitate to ask for it. Do they specify caps on multi-agent fees for subrights? Do they have a clause that ensures you can be paid directly from the publisher in case of agency bankruptcy or dissolution? They might say no to your request, or ask for a different wording, but they’re not going to rescind your offer for something like that. If they do rescind, you dodged a bullet. You wouldn’t want to suddenly find out your agent has a touchy ego once you’re already in a business relationship and you rely on them to get your checks.

2. If you get an offer, ask around your whisper network. Post in private writing groups on social media asking if anyone has heard good or bad things of the agents, and if someone wants to DM you about it, let them. People in the industry get to know the bad actors, but won’t say anything where it will come up in a search and risk retaliation. Check WriterBeware. Get 2-3 references from the agent, preferably at least one writer that has sold a book and one that hasn’t. Email them to ask how it is to work with the agent.

3. Plan for a crash. You’ve spent a lot of time, either months or years, enduring heartache, rejection, exhaustion, and burnout. You’ve had an adrenaline soaked couple of weeks of fielding life-changing phone calls and decisions. Give yourself time to fall back to earth after you’ve signed the contract. If you can take time off work, do so. Don’t throw yourself into a new project. Play video games. Go for walks. Breathe. Feel your feelings. Process the trauma of this journey. This moment, between your acceptance and either an editorial letter or a submission plan, is the last and best moment to breathe in your career.

4. If an agent refuses to give you references, pressures you to make an immediate decision without giving you at least two weeks to consider other offers, or won’t provide a sample contract from the agency to look over, I would consider those red flags. This is supposed to be a mutually beneficial business relationship. If it isn’t starting out with mutual respect, transparency, and good faith, it can only go downhill from there. You are in a vulnerable position and maybe a little desperate, so you’re perfect for predators to pick off and take advantage of. As much as we want an agent, it is absolutely true that a bad agent is worse than none. This is why your whisper network may be your most valuable tool.

LESSONS LEARNED

The most helpful lesson I’ve learned through the process of querying three books in three years was that I have more than one book in me. I’m able to let go of scarcity thinking going into revisions with my agent because I know this isn’t “THE BOOK,” It’s one book. It’s my first of many books. If I need to cut a character, plot, or theme, I can re-use it somewhere else. If it fails on sub, then I’ve already started outlining the next book, and it will be even better than this one.

Related to this, the best skill I’ve picked up in this process is the ability to receive critique of my work. As much as I love my characters and story, the fact that this isn’t “THE BOOK” means I can take a step back and consider them objectively. That isn’t to say all criticism is useful, since it’s often highly subjective and sometimes delivered so rudely that it overshadows any useful message buried beneath the jerkiness. But I’ve learned that my real goal isn’t to preserve this story–it’s to make it better. Even if that means tearing it down to the studs for a complete re-build. That doesn’t mean critique is easy to hear, but accepting it is a skill worth cultivating if your goal is to become a better writer.

Thanks for sticking with me to the end of this, and good luck in the query trenches! If you have questions or need specific advice, feel free to reach out to me in the comments, or on Twitter @JoGeekly.

MY QUERY LETTER for TIMBER

This was my base query letter, which was personalized and modified according to each agent’s guidelines and interests.

Dear (agent full name):

Aspiring producer and secret idealist Anna MacKenzie needs this reality docudrama on Oregon logging to launch her career. She expected the studio executives and her ambitious ex to fight her dream of making sympathetic, positive television. She wasn’t expecting the biggest fight to come from a giant, grumpy, backwoods lumberjerk determined to sabotage her show.

Henry West is not about to let some Hollywood slimeball come in with pretty promises and throw the private lives of everyone he cares about into the national spotlight for public ridicule. Not even for the cash infusion his family’s logging business desperately needs. Not even when said slimeball comes with eyes like the shifting shadows on mossy stone, and reminds him of the poems he stopped writing so many years ago.

In their war of contract loopholes and Disney princess theme songs, the line between fighting and flirting quickly blurs. But a cease fire proves even more dangerous. Giving in to the pull of attraction would risk her career, his family’s reputation, and both their hearts.

TIMBER is a contemporary, dual-POV, enemies to lovers romance of 83,000 words with strong series potential. It was inspired in part by the History Channel’s docudrama Ax Men and the Lifetime series UnREAL, and should appeal to readers of Tessa Bailey’s It Happened One Summer, Lucy Score’s Mister Fixer Upper, and readers of Sally Thorne.

Thank you for your time,

-Jo Conklin

JoConklin.com
www.twitter.com/JoGeekly
www.instagram.com/JoConklin

joconklin Characters, Motivation, Writing Tips

Of MICE and Murder

Listeners of the Writing Excuses podcast are probably familiar with Orsen Scott Card’s MICE quotient, which categorizes elements of your story as Milieu, Inquiry, Character, or Event.

But I want to talk about a different MICE—one that’s uniquely relevant to the murder mystery writer, and borrowed from counter-espionage strategies developed during World War II.

MICE describes the four primary motives driving someone to commit espionage: Money, Ideology, Coercion, and Ego. These are still the central focus of security clearance investigations in the U.S. They also happen to be, on a higher level, the same primary motives driving someone to commit murder.

Money

Murder for money means more than just paid assassins. Your murderer could want their inheritance a little earlier than expected. They could want to protect their assets in a divorce. They could want the contents of their victim’s wall-safe or a particularly valuable piece of jewelry. While this is probably one of the most common motives for murder in the real world, it can also be too simplistic on its own, and unsatisfying for your reader without layering more complex motives, such as Ego or Ideology.

Ideology

Ideology is a complex motive for murder that lets you, as author, explore broader societal conflicts and dig deeply into darker premises. Is there a deep schism in your murderer’s religious community and they must kill their opponent “for the greater good?” Did the victim betray their community and way of life? Are they an interloper who threaten the community’s traditions? Is your murder a hate crime?* You can see how this motive is strong enough to hold it’s own, but it also layers well with other motives, particularly Ego.

Coercion

This is the motive that I find writers using when they want their murderer to be sympathetic. Usually, the murderer is being blackmailed, exploited, or abused, and the only way out is by killing the person who controls their fate. Another common twist on this motive is for the murderer to be a pawn for someone else, coerced into murdering someone to protect their own life or (more sympathetically) their family or loved ones. This allows the murderer to remain a decent person in the eyes of the reader/viewer, because the decision to kill arose from sheer desperation or self-preservation.

Ego

While this motive stands alone, it also works as a second layer for any of the other motives. Ego involves the preservation of a person’s self-image, rather than physical self-preservation. Perceived disrespect drives these murderers, because their own self-image is fragile enough that if they allow the disrespect, it makes them question their worth, attractiveness, competence, or status. It allows you as a writer to play with social status, societal hierarchies, and even toxic gender, class, and relationship roles.

Ego is what drives your murderer to kill their cheating spouse (or their lover), or the person who rejected their intimacy. Some motive models list these crimes as “love” or “passion,” but it’s important to understand that what’s really driving the murder is the person’s bruised ego and self-image. They are angry over the hurt and feel diminished. They need to assert dominance and control. That has nothing to do with love.

How to use MICE

Murders are personal. They’re visceral, and the stakes should be high. But once you determine your murder motive, understanding the underlying MICE drivers will help you make that motive realistic, consistent, and clear. Murders are often executed with baroque complexity, but the psychological drive behind the decision to kill is what makes your murderer interesting.

*If you are using an ideology motive that affects a real-world marginalized group, please make sure you consult with an expert from within that group to ensure you are not falling into a lazy writing role of exploitation or stereotype.

joconklin Characters, Deep POV, Description, Editing Tips, Uncategorized, Writing Tips

Double-Duty Description

I struggle with description. I’m not a visual person. In fact, sometimes I have to pull up a bunch of images or videos online to serve as a guide when trying to really evoke a person or place. So when I encounter description in a book, the question of “how much” description to use is one that I’m invested in.

Unfortunately, the standard answer of “just enough and no more” is….less than helpful.

Let’s start with Chris.

He’s 32 years old, 6’1, about 140 pounds, red hair, hazel eyes, pale, freckled, and thin. He’s wearing a medium-blue button-down shirt and light gray cotton slacks that fit him well. He has brown loafers on with no socks, a brown men’s dress belt, and a Smartwatch. He’s wearing no other jewelry or accessories.

That’s what we call the “police sketch” description of the person. It has the kind of detail that would let the cops put out a BOLO on a suspect and identify them clearly. It probably gives someone with a visual imagination a great picture of Chris.

There’s two problems with it. First, it does NOTHING for those of us without a visual imagination. I have no idea what 140 pounds looks like on a man. By the time I reach the end of the description, the earlier details are already sliding out of my head. Despite the excruciating detail, Chris is vague to me. I’ve got nothing.

The other problem is that it’s boring.

So how much of that description is really necessary? We all know that human minds fill in blanks. One of my many past careers was a post-bac research position in a psychology lab studying biases in eyewitness testimony. Turns out, eyewitness testimony is super unreliable. It more often reflects the witness’s expectations of what happened than what actually happened. Much of the detail comes from our own imagination instead of our eyes.

So if we just say Chris is a tall, thin redhead, what’s the picture of him in your mind? You’ll probably still picture a person. But is it the person the author had in mind?

Let’s re-frame it.

What is your description trying to accomplish? If it’s just to paint a visual picture, it’s not doing enough work for the real-estate it takes up in your story. Instead, think about how much else you could do with the same words.

  1. Characterization of the person or place described
  2. Deep POV characterization of the observer
  3. Promises to the reader
  4. Atmosphere

None of these should take the place of creating an image of the person or place, but they could be served equally.

What if I described Chris like this:

He was a tall, leanly-muscled man with laughing green-brown eyes and a crisply tailored blue Oxford shirt. His hair shone the color of the sun and freckles were tossed across his creamy skin like constellations.

What does this description tell you that the police sketch version, in all its detail, does not?

  1. It tells us things about Chris, like he’s a happy, confident guy who takes pains with his appearance.
  2. It tells us things about the POV character, like they might be attracted to Chris.
  3. It promises the reader some kind of future romantic or platonic relationship arc between Chris and the POV character.
  4. It sets or adds to the tone of the book in the writing style and use of imagery.

I could pack the same amount of work into a negative portrayal:

He was a gaunt, gangly man. His pale, pinched face was mottled with freckles. Every strand of his wiry orange hair sat rigidly in place. His shirt collar stood at attention, as if the fabric didn’t dare show a wrinkle for fear of the man’s disapproval.

This also tells us things about Chris and how the POV character perceives him (controlling, austere, grim). It promises the reader some kind of enemy or antagonist relationship between the POV character and Chris. It sets or adds to the tone of the book with the writing style and use of imagery.

In both descriptions, we have a tall, thin, red-haired man who takes pains with his appearance. Choosing words with positive or negative emotional content to describe the same man makes for a very different description. If I don’t have a clear image of Chris, I at least have a very clear impression of him, from the POV character’s perspective.

When writing description of people or places, look for neutral description words. “Blue eyes” is neutral. It isn’t doing any additional work for you beyond telling us the color of someone’s eyes. Don’t go overboard with the thesaurus, but look for simple words that carry a little emotional weight to them.

“Icy” or “steel” blue implies a person is cold and heartless, intensely self-controlled, and determined.

“Watery” might give the impression of a person who is soft and emotional, uncertain, unconfident, or prone to tears.

“Ocean” may imply someone who is deep, philosophical, and meditative.

“Sky” could imply an open-hearted, confident dreamer.

Don’t waste flowery metaphors beyond a simple adjective, on secondary characters. You’re showing your POV character’s thoughts lingering on the person’s appearance, committing it to memory. That makes promises to the reader about that character’s significance in the POV character’s life.

What about all those other details, like his age, his shoes, his smartwatch? Once you’ve conveyed an impression of the character, only add details that are significant to the story. The sockless loafers and smartwatch could be part of the initial impression if the POV character thinks he’s a hipster and judges him for it. Is he wearing a wedding ring? That could be important for a romance, but doesn’t need to be part of the initial description. The POV character could do a subtle ring-check in their next action beat. The watch could be significant if it turns out he’s a time-traveler and it’s his communicator or device controller, so drop that gun on the mantel. First impressions don’t have to be a complete picture, though; they’re simply a sketch to be filled in as we go.

joconklin Editing Tips, Style and Grammar, Uncategorized, Writing Tips

Writing Polish: Going Off Subject

I’m getting back into the grammar weeds today, based on common problems I’m seeing in beta manuscripts. In this case, I’m talking about the subject of a sentence, and making it clear to your readers which character is acting at any given time.

Sentence 1: Chris turned around.

We have a basic simple sentence here with subject (Chris), verb (turned), and adverb (around). It’s clear to us that Chris is the one doing the turning, because he’s the only person mentioned. But what if I complicated things?

Sentence 2: Chris turned around and waved at Jim.

We have two people in this sentence, but it’s clear that both verbs (turned and waved) apply to Chris. That’s because readers read words in order, and associate action with the last person mentioned. Even though “waved” is closer in the sentence to Jim than it is to Chris and they are both present in the scene, we associate all action with Chris until Jim is introduced.

Sentence 3: Chris turned around and waved at Jim, ducking a flying frisbee.

Now we’re having problems. Is Chris or Jim ducking the frisbee? Maybe it’s not important in the grander scheme of the story, but it means we don’t have a way to visualize the scene with any kind of clarity. Technically, Chris is the subject of the sentence and the verb “ducking” should be attached to him. But here’s the key takeaway:

In English, readers read words in the order they appear.

While our working memory allows us to hold on to information and re-arrange things in the correct order, that’s a process that happens after we finish the sentence. When it takes longer it takes for the brain to double-check meaning before letting us absorb the sentence, it breaks the reader’s flow. It reduces clarity. It dulls your prose.

So even if the sentence above is technically correct, at least some part of the reader’s mind tries to attach verbs to the most recent subject mentioned (Jim). Part of the confusion is the change of verb tense, which cues the reader that other changes, like subject, might have occurred as well. You reduce the confusion by keeping the verbs parallel and making it clear this is an ordered list of events:

Sentence 4: Chris turned around and waved at Jim, then ducked a flying frisbee.

The Takeaway

Of course, you can structure and edit your voice right out of your prose. Sometimes, though, confusion can clutter up and distract from your voice. The key takeaway here is that people read words in the order they appear. This is the part you can’t change. What you can do is use sentence structure to compensate, tricking our minds into holding crucial information with less effort. When writing is clear, we’re able to immerse ourselves in the story itself, without distraction. That’s in your power as a writer.

joconklin Book Reviews, Deep POV, Style and Grammar, Writing Craft Books, Writing Tips

Books on Writing: Rivet Your Reader With Deep Point of View by Jill Elizabeth Nelson

Ever had a reader say they just didn’t feel like they were in the character’s head? Deep Point of View is a vital key to engaging modern readers with your writing voice and immerse them in your story. In Rivet Your Readers with Deep Point of View, Jill Elizabeth Nelson gives you a crash course in eliminating distancing language, including examples and exercises from her own books. It’s short (only 60 pages in Kindle) but packs a LOT of great tips into that short space. Whether or not you’re a fan of her fiction writing, I cannot fault her advice on how you can make your own writing better.

Visit Jill Elizabeth Nelson online for information. The book is currently available for free on Kindle Unlimited.

joconklin Characters, Plot and Structure, Writing Tips

Roll for Initiative: Keeping Your Characters in Scene

As a reader and beta reader, one of the things that stands out to me is when a secondary character does or says something halfway through a scene and my reaction is, “Huh. I forgot they were even there.”

We forget sometimes as writers that our readers don’t have the benefit of watching a scene as it plays out in our own heads. We know the butler’s still there because in our mental image of the scene, he’s visually present. When it plays out in our head, we can focus on the more interesting banter between the hero and villain. But our readers aren’t in our head, and need us to keep the scene alive by the words on the page alone.

Taken to an extreme, this is a kind of “floating heads” problem. There, the issue is that the entire scene disappears and we only have the back-and-forth dialogue with no action beats or interaction with the setting, as if the two characters were heads floating on a blank screen. In this particular case, it’s only the secondary characters that disappear, instead of the entire setting. But disappearing and reappearing secondary characters makes your scene flatter and less real. It steals your verisimilitude, and is more distracting than having them present throughout.

Every Character Has Initiative

In tabletop role-playing games, a common game structure for important scenes is for each character to roll a die to randomly determine the order in which they may act during each round of action. This is known as “initiative order.” When it comes to their turn, they may take a certain number of actions, or forego some or all of them, but every character has a chance to act in every round.

For your own scenes, make a list of the characters present in the room, including secondary and background characters. If they’re present, they get an initiative order, right down to the dog at the MC’s feet.

As you step through the scene, ask yourself, “How would this character be thinking, feeling, acting, and reacting in this moment?”

Obviously your main characters will have center-stage. You’re not going to go into the same kind of detail with the butler as you would the villain. The butler needs to be present, though. They need to be a real person reacting to events as they unfold.

Keep your Initiative Order

This isn’t a hard-and-fast rule, but it’s easier to keep track of your characters’ responses if they happen in the same order each round. For example: Your hero speaks, your villain responds, your butler reacts. It may feel formulaic to you as the writer, but it will allow your reader to make better sense of what’s happening in the scene and improve your flow.

Every Action has a Reaction

The villain throws his drink in the hero’s face. How would every character in the room react to this? It can be as slight as the butler’s hiss of indrawn breath or as significant as the hero throwing a punch, but your characters are real people and part of the scene. They will react as real people.  That doesn’t mean they have to act in every round, but they should respond to what’s going on in the scene.

Ridiculous Example:

In this over-the-top cliche villain scene, I have established an “initiative order” of villain –> butler–> hero. Sometimes their turns overlap, but everyone is present throughout the scene. The scene is from the hero’s POV.

***

Baddy McBadGuy smirked and leaned back in his chair. “And how do you expect to stop me?” [villain action]

On cue, Jeeves placed a slim manilla folder in his employer’s hand. [butler reaction] Hero von Goodie tossed the folder on the table to the left of his plate without breaking eye contact with the man across the table. “With this.” [hero reaction + action]

Baddy’s smirk didn’t falter, but his eyes shifted briefly to the unassuming folder before snapping back to Hero’s. “Paper? Paper is so fallible, so easy to buy, so easy to destroy.” [villain reaction + action]

Hero held his glass out for Jeeves to fill with more of the ten-year-old Médoc, [butler reaction + hero reaction overlap] letting silence draw out the tension. It was a dangerous game, but only someone with the power and influence of the von Goodie name stood a chance of bringing down this empire of evil. “Enough paper, McBadGuy, and even you can be buried under it. All it needs to do is create doubt in the minds of the right people.” [hero action]

McBadGuy took the stem of his own wine glass and began to spin it on the tablecloth, the light of the chandelier setting the dark wine aglow. [villain reaction] He’d done that before, at the fundraiser dinner when he found out his warehouse was about to be raided. So then, even McBadGuy had a tell. “People are so fallible,” Baddy said in the same deceptively casual tone of voice, “so easy to buy, so easy to destroy.” [villain action]

Jeeves stiffened beside Hero. [butler reaction] There was the threat Hero had expected. They must be as reflexive a response for this man as breathing. The trouble with reflexes, of course, is that they lacked control. Hero studied McBadGuy’s face and raised his glass to the man before taking a sip. I’ve got you. [hero reaction]

****

Cheesiness aside, note that the butler doesn’t intrude on the scene with any dialogue or major action, but he doesn’t disappear from it, either. As a background character he becomes part of the setting that responds to the actions of the main characters without affecting them.  They keep initiative order so that I’m sure every character has an opportunity for a reaction and action, whether or not they use both on their turn.  This is particularly important when there are multiple background characters in play, as it is easy to lose one in the shuffle.

Note that if you have am anonymous crowd (e.g. an audience at a concert or mass of people in a train station), they can react en masse, or through representatives. For the crowd’s turn in the initiative order, a guy in a Yankee’s hat can whistle at the MC, a woman with tightly restrained hair and a business suit can sigh at a declaration of love, or a child can start to cry at someone’s raised voice. The crowd is a character, even if you give us glimpses into its individual aspects.

joconklin Characters, Deep POV, Editing Tips, Writing Tips

POV Problems

One of the issues I come across often both in my beta reads and my own first drafts is violation of limited POV.

Most contemporary books are written in limited POV. This means we really get into the head of the main character and experience the world through their eyes. The narrative voice is the MC’s voice, and reflects their perception and frame of the world. For first person, this is more intuitive for us as writers. We’re really putting ourselves in the shoes of our character with the use of “I.” In third person, it’s less so, which is why these three POV errors pop up regularly.

 

1. The character knows things they shouldn’t.

Key Question: What does my character know and when did they know it? 

This refers to events and information about the world and other characters, including the MC’s personal knowledge gaps. My main character doesn’t know about that fight her best friend had with her husband, unless the best friend tells her. If she’s lived in a major city her whole life, she probably doesn’t know what goats eat or whether crops are looking sickly due to drought.

Examples:

  • Your character references something that happened when they weren’t around
  • Your character knows what another character is thinking or feeling
  • Your character knows something outside of their expertise or experience

 

2. The Narrator knows things they shouldn’t.

Key Question: Would the main character in the current POV know this?

  • Remember the narrative voice IS the MC’s voice. Your narration shouldn’t give us the internal musings of another character because the MC wouldn’t be privy to this information.

    Examples:

  • The narration describes action taking place while the character is asleep, not present, or their back is turned
  • The narration describes the internal thoughts, feelings, perspective, or physical sensory information of a character other than your MC.
  • The narration references information outside the MC’s expertise or experience.

 

3. Loss of Deep POV

Key Question: How would the main character feel and react right now?

Deep POV is a post all of its own, but it’s primarily about being deep in the character’s head for an immersive story experience. The most frequent issues are with distancing language like “felt,” “heard,” and “saw.” The narration is the main character’s voice, and so everything described should be the character’s experience. We don’t need to know the character “felt” something; we just need to describe the sensation and we assign it to the MC.

The other big deep POV violation is when we only see their external behavior (dialogue and some physical movements) and not their internal thoughts, feelings, and reactions to events. I see this most often when the author is trying to hold back a twist from the reader that the character is aware of. I also see it when a writer is uncomfortable being in their MC’s head (usually during either a sex scene or emotional trauma).

Examples:

  • We’re told the main character is seeing and feeling things instead of showing us the experience.
  • We see the main character’s physical movements and dialogue but no internal thoughts or feelings
  • The main character fails to react to events in a scene, either internally or externally.

 

POV Solutions

There’s no way around the need to have a strong sense of who your character is and how they would think, feel, and react in certain situations. If your character isn’t a real person you can get into, consider some of the character interviews or questionnaires out there as a starting point to round them out with nuance.  Write a few shorts from their POV, capturing some earlier major event in their life to get a feel for them as a person. (These make great bonus material for your website once the book is published).

Read up on deep POV and eliminate telling/distancing words like “felt,” “saw,” “heard,” and “thought” (in all their tenses.) If you describe a sound, we assume your main character is hearing it; we don’t need to be told that they are. If your main character can’t hear it, it shouldn’t be in there at all because it’s a POV violation.

If you really need something in the story, there are many ways around it, but we need to SEE the explanation as a reader and have it make sense to us. This can be “signposting” (as in, “this is where we are and where we’re going next”) or “lampshading” (as in, “I know this is unbelievable so I’m specifically calling it out as such.”).  For example: Your character spent their whole life in a major city BUT had a best friend/aunt/mother into urban farming collectives and therefore knows all too well what a goat eats and how tall corn should be in July.  Your main character’s oblivious but their friend can foreshadow someone in the house by asking, “Did you hear that? It sounded like a door closing.”  Your MC could actually be psychic, although that comes with its own host of plotting issues.

If you find yourself hopping into another character’s head and really wanting to focus on that other character’s thoughts and reactions, consider whether you’ve chosen the right main character. Sometimes alternating POV every chapter becomes too restrictive a pattern and it’s okay to shake it up. Tell the story from the POV that has the highest stakes or strongest internal response to events in that scene. The greater impact of the writing will more than compensate for disrupting the pattern. You could also move the scene to a chapter with that character’s POV.

As with most writing issues, there’s no secret formula and no one right way to do it. The best solution will be one that fits your style and vision for the story.

joconklin Characters, Motivation, Plot and Structure, Writing Tips

3 Writing Lessons from Dungeons and Dragons

Tabletop role-playing games (RPGs) have a lot to teach you about writing. You create characters and tell a collaborative story in real time, so of course it’s good practice for your novel! Taking away the setting elements (fantasy, sci-fi, horror), you find lessons that apply to any writer in any genre. Here are the first three that come to mind.

1. Think in Combat Rounds

Whenever an important scene is happening in an RPG (Combat, traps, or any other dangerous encounter) game play is broken down into “rounds.” In each round, every player has an opportunity to take an action. Maybe that action is to hold back and wait, or maybe they’ve been badly injured and their action is “be unconscious,” but everyone has a chance to chime in or check-in every round.

When something important is happening in your story, where are the characters and what are they doing? Too often, the action or conversation narrows down to a couple of characters, and everybody else “disappears” from the scene for several pages. That can be somewhat effective for a romantic dramatic first meeting, where everyone metaphorically disappears from the character’s world for a moment. In most cases, however, every character present will be present and taking some sliver of the narrative awareness. Like in games, they can pass on acting for a round or two, but if three things happen (conversational lines, actions, events) with no reaction from a character in a scene, consider whether they need to be present at all.

Not everybody needs to have a starring role in every scene, mind you. We’re talking about a cough here, a quip there, a brief facial expression a la mode. When you’re having a conversation with other people present, you’re at least somewhat aware of who’s around you and what they’re doing. Your main character should have the same situational awareness. It helps us readers really immerse ourselves in a complete, detailed scene. It makes the scene real.

2. Actions Take Time

In Dungeons and Dragons, a “round” is considered to be about six seconds long. This limits how much you can get done in a single round. Generally, you can move about five to ten feet and then interact once with something or someone (e.g. cast a spell, swing a sword). Things that take very little time or can be done at the same time as moving or interacting, such as dropping an item or a short line of dialogue, are “free actions.” These can be taken in moderation alongside your movement and interaction.

This limitation is a valuable guide for scenes in your book. If Bob fires a gun at Jane, he does not have time to recite a five page monologue and run across a football field before Jane takes some action of her own. Maybe Bob has a killer monologue (pun intended) and you really want to work it in. That’s fine, but not uninterrupted. If he’s holed up in a hiding spot and shouting his fine speech, Jane should be responding, strategizing how to get to him or flush him out, addressing her wounds if she’s bleeding, and maybe taking the occasional pot shot of her own. She shouldn’t disappear from the scene, or stand frozen to give him time to monologue. Would you give him that time if it were you? Bob might not manage to kill Jane, but taking Jane out of the scene for several pages certainly kills the tension.

3. Nobody Enjoys a Railroad

I’m not talking about actual trains, which are pretty fun. I’m talking about a moment in an RPG where the characters are forced to a certain location or action, against their will, because it’s convenient to the overall plot. It’s called “railroading” in game terms, because the plot becomes a fixed path the characters must follow (like the rails for a train). This takes away their agency and ability to create the story collaboratively on their own terms.

“But,” Paladin Jane protests, “there’s no reason for my character to take a job guarding this slaver caravan. It goes against everything she believes.”

“Well, the next encounter in the module happens while you’re guarding the caravan. So if you don’t do it willingly I’m going to have your character arrested on a trumped-up charge and sentenced to guard the caravan. And you can’t free the slaves, because we need them for the last scene in the game.”

At this point, the player isn’t enjoying the game, the DM isn’t enjoying the game, and the reader of this story is side-eyeing the whole operation. This is a particular pitfall for plotters, who set out major events in the story ahead of time, then write to fill in the outline. Yes you need to get the characters to Point 15 in the outline. But make sure Point 15 is someplace your character would naturally want to go. Nothing makes me want to put a book down faster than a character acting contrary to their nature for the convenience of the plot. That kind of deviation needs some selling. It needs consistency. You need to set up their motivation for this decision several chapters in advance, so that it seems like a natural step to take. It needs to make sense, not according to the writer’s perspective, but the character’s. If you can’t do that, you might need a different character, or a different plot.

What character or storytelling lessons do you take from RPGs?

joconklin Motivation, Writing Tips

Three P’s of Writer’s Block

It happens to every writer. You get to a point somewhere in the middle of the book and the plot that has been rolling merrily along simply evaporates. Where do we go from here? It’s an intensely discouraging moment for all of us. In some cases, it can even convince people to put their writing down for good.

But it isn’t always as hopeless as it seems. There are three questions you can ask yourself that might help beat the block.

1. Is it Physical?

Our brains and bodies are not separate. Writers are notorious for immersing themselves in a project and ignoring the body’s demands. Sooner or later, though, the body says no more! The first thing you should do when you’re blocked is a quick physical assessment. Are you hungry? Dehydrated? Sleepy? Sore from sitting in one position too long? Does your head hurt from staring at a screen? Do you have to pee? Are you coming down with a cold?

Give yourself a break to address your body’s needs. Eat something sustaining (protein, fiber, fat). Drink some water.  Take a stretch break. Put on an upbeat song and dance like only your cat is judging you. Go for a walk. Go to bed early and try again tomorrow.

2. Is it Pressure?

This is especially a problem for people with very little time to write. When you can only squeeze in half an hour of writing time between work, classes, and kids, anything that interferes with it has an outsized impact. We’re also under pressure to produce. How many words today? How many chapters edited? How many queries sent? This keeps us motivated, but the stress can also actively interfere with the creative process.

Writing is a long game, and a sustainable pace is more important than a high word count. If you only have a half hour to write, it’s better to get twenty good minutes in than thirty bad ones. Take ten minutes and do something completely different to clear your mind. Take a walk. Take a shower. Meditate. Don’t get on social media or read…let your mind actually relax from the effort of creating. Don’t think about your writing at all, if you can help it. As Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi teaches us in “Creativity and Flow,” our brain sometimes does its best work when we’re not trying to make it work.

Make sure your goals and expectations are sustainable. If you are continuously blocked and frustrated trying to produce 400 words a day, try shooting for 200. If you do more than that, great! But a reachable goal removes a lot of pressure, and a relaxed mind is a creative one.

3. Is it Plotting?

This is a particular problem for pantsers, but plotters are not immune. You reach the end of a scene in your book, and suddenly have no idea how to get the characters where you want them to go next! Everything you try seems awkward or forced. It’s chapter three, and the book seems to want to end right here.

This is a plotting problem. It usually means you’ve wrapped up a conflict too early in the story, and need to delay its resolution for a while longer. You could also go back and introduce a new conflict before this point to carry the story forward. Always ask if your characters are miserable enough! Yes, we love them. But in the immortal words of Urgl, “It has to hurt if it’s to heal.”  When you resolve a conflict, you remove tension. When you add or prolong a conflict, you add tension. Don’t drop your tension too soon, and it will prevent these “early ending” moments.

What other suggestions have you heard to beat writer’s block?