Now that I’m firmly back into writing a new draft of Toric,
and have just wrapped up part 1, I wanted to discuss perhaps the most
significant reason for why I needed to rework some things. Simply put, the
beginning wasn’t working.
This revelation didn’t come as a surprise for me. Before I
had my previous draft reviewed, one of the last things I did was redo the first
ten pages, for what felt like the fifth or sixth time. Yet, when it came time
for me to face the music, it was the same exact song and dance. I had to face
the facts, my beginning was broken.
So, let’s take a step back and examine what the beginning of
a book actually is. Your goal as an author is to capture your reader’s
attention. You need to leave them wanting more. Well doesn’t that sound simple?
If only things were so easy. I needed to go deeper to understand why my
previous attempts at beginnings were falling flat. I needed to understand the
mechanics behind what makes an effective starting point.
Before I go any further, I’d like to credit this episode from the writing excuses podcast with helping to put my thoughts in order as I planned this latest draft of my book. I’ve been a long time listener of the podcast, and I’m sure there are a number of episodes I’ve absorbed over the years about introductions, but this was one that stands out in particular.
Secondly, a quick disclaimer. There are any number of
different ways to approach things like this. What works for one writer’s style
may completely fall apart for another’s. I’ve attempted to make this as generic
as possible, but don’t feel like this is a recipe you have to follow to the
letter. These points are simple meant to get the creative juices flowing and
help you to examine what might and might not be working well for you.
So, with that out of the way, let’s break down the key components of what I believe makes a good beginning into 5 concrete points.
I’m planning to break this down into a few different posts,
so I can properly dive into each of these points. In this post, I’m going to
cover only point number 1. That of making promises. Promises are arguably the
most important thing you need to be aware of when approaching a proper
introduction.
What is a promise? In a nutshell, your promises are what you
tell the reader they can expect from your book. This is both in a narrative
sense and in a more meta/fourth-wall sense as well. If a romance fan picks up
your book and sees page one of your book is about an intergalactic robot
rebellion, well you are making a promise to them about what they can expect
from the rest of your book, for better or for worse. If this is someone you
want to grab, maybe because you are writing steamy robot erotica (not that I
would know anything about that), make sure to make that clear right from page
1.
You want to lead early on with what sort of book to expect.
Don’t try to rug pull genres or anything else tricky like that. Perhaps if you
are a well established author someday, then you might play around. But as a
newer author, it’s best to be very up front about the type of book your reader
has picked up.
From there we can get more specific with the nature of these
promises. I have always been fascinated by heist stories, and I knew Toric
would feature thief and rogue-like characters and that my climax would be a
sort of heist job. It made all the sense in the world then to drop the reader
into a heist in progress in chapter 1. This lets the reader see how I approach
this kind of storytelling, and to see if the tone resonates with them.
Tone is a big one. I almost included it as one of the key
points above, but ultimately rolled it into the promises point. Some readers
may not want a heady and philosophical narrative, while others may crave it.
Ensure you properly represent the different sort of tones up front as well,
just like genre.
In the Writing Excuses podcast episode linked above, they
discuss an author they knew who was struggling to pitch a middle grade book.
The problem ended up being that the beginning was somewhat lighthearted about a
goofy kid, but then the book gets into its actual story as a dark and brooding
adventure novel. By doing this, the people who wanted that dark and brooding
adventure never made it past your beginning, and the fans of the goofy
beginning will feel somewhat betrayed as that’s not actually what the meat of
the book is like. Setting the stage immediately with the proper tone is
extremely important.
Lastly, you can make promises about topics within your book.
Do you have magic? Find a way to show that. Is there interplanetary travel?
Probably should be mentioned. Can animals talk in your world? Let us know this
up front.
When I think about my previous versions of Toric’s
beginning, and specifically the promises that were made but never fulfilled,
and the promises that should have been made but weren’t, the reasons for my
unhappiness with it start to come into focus. The old introduction told the
very standard story of a group of thieves slipping into a city unnoticed to
assassinate a king. It focused mostly on the characters, and had very little
else in terms of promises. No wider world or plot relevant things were
mentioned. It was a play by play of a scene straight out of every D&D
campaign ever.
Now, that’s not necessarily a problem, if I was writing a
D&D style group adventure story. But I’m not. Not really. The story I am
trying to tell is one I hope that will be continent spanning, eventually. I
plan to have lots of factions and races and powers pushing against each other,
with my characters feeling a little like they are leaves caught in a hurricane
at times. I’m planning on having a fantastical world full of interesting and
eye catching magical spectacles. By focusing so narrowly on a few thieves for
as many pages as I was, I wasn’t doing a good job of setting expectations for
the story I wanted to tell. The first time I cut away to mysterious demi-gods
plotting mysteriously, it must have been extremely jarring for a reader going
in blind.
So how did I end up rethinking my promises with the beginning
then? I looked at what I thought was the strongest part of my previous draft
(the climactic heist job my characters end up attempting), and tried to think
of ways I could get that same feeling across, in miniature, to craft an
effective beginning. A teaser, if you will, for the great parts to come. I even
crafted my beginning scenes in a small three act format, hoping to mirror the
magic of the strong ending that it would eventually lead to.
I remember thinking in previous drafts that I needed to
start simple, and slowly build up to the big reveals about the world and the
conflicts facing it. But, I no longer believe that to be true. My opinion now,
and the driving force behind this latest iteration of Toric’s beginning, is
that I want to craft a spectacle using every tool in my toolbox that I possibly
can. I want wild magic. I want incredibly powerful beings. I want to show off
some of the coolest ideas I’ve had for weapons and combat. I want to blow the
reader away with alien and otherworldly settings. Why hold these things in
reserve? Lead with them. Show the reader that this is the kind of story
you are dying to tell, and that they should be dying to read.
So, by the end of the beginning, the reader should fully
understand exactly the type of book they have picked up. That doesn’t mean they
understand all of the nuances of what is going on. We’ll talk more about
effectively utilizing a sense of mystery and wonder to keep the reader guessing
and wanting more in a future post, probably the one in this series that covers
point 5 above about prompting compelling questions.
There’s a ton more I could say about promises. I think they
are among the most important things you can keep in mind when crafting any one
of your introductions. Whether that is the beginning of the book, or any other
moment that fits the idea of an introduction (new characters, settings,
subplots, etc…).
However, I’ll let this topic breathe for now. In the next
post in this series I plan on covering character and setting, and once again
discussing where my previous opening scenes for Toric failed, and what I have
done to hopefully remedy those issues.
Until next time!
When we talk about epic fantasy, it can pretty much be
assumed that there are going to be multiple viewpoint characters in the story. After
all, it’s hard to convey the grand scope of your world from just one
character’s perspective. Usually there are multiple countries or races at play,
and you typically want perspectives outside of your bog-standard human
protagonist person. Of course, multiple viewpoints are not limited to epic
fantasy, but it is the genre that I am writing in so that’s the lens through
which I will write this post. (Credit is due to the Writing Excuses for their great
information on viewpoints. Here’s
one episode on this topic).
So, let’s talk about the different kinds of perspectives
that we can offer. To me, this is defined by distance. You either have multiple
viewpoints in close proximity to one another (think Six of Crows where
our protagonists are on the same mission), or are too far away to interact or
influence one another directly (like The Way
of Kings where our various protagonists are spread throughout the world).
Each of these approaches offers different challenges and
advantages, so let’s start with what it takes to do multiple viewpoints with
characters who are in the same room, so to speak. I’ll leave the broader scope
to a later post (link should be here when it’s done, feel free to bug me on
twitter as long as you can read this!).
I’m pretty comfortable and familiar with multiple view
points in close proximity. After all, this is a bit of what I juggle in Toric
(though it’s a small degree compared to the aforementioned Six of Crows, with
Skye only getting a few chapters, and a couple other characters just a section
or two). I am sure later on in the series that the scope will grow, but for now
we mostly have characters on the same mission together.
So, what are the challenges here? For one, distinctiveness
is direly important. You can cheat on this a little bit when the characters are
far apart and in very unique settings, but when you are switching between
viewpoints in the same room, you have to worry about their voice a lot more.
Whether you are doing first person or third person limited, you have to cloud
each character’s observations in their background and personality.
My approach is to roleplay a bit. Given a situation, let’s
say we’re in a bar and someone has just knocked over a table and drawn their
weapon, I ask myself how would my viewpoint character react to this situation?
Maybe I’m in my standard protagonist’s head, and I think, yeah, they’d probably
spring up and be ready to intervene. Simple. So then, I think what would
another character do in this situation. I’m not in their head for this scene,
but if I can imagine how they would react in a different way, I can use this as
a point of differentiation for my viewpoint character’s actions.
This admittedly works better if you have a character who is
weaker or believes in themselves less, because if we are in their head then
they can lament their lack of action or ability. It probably won’t sound quite
right for a strong character to mentally congratulate themselves as they spring
to defend a helpless bystander, so we need a different tack here.
That’s voice and personality. You have to let these things
shine through. Again, we are in your viewpoint character’s head, they should be
thinking about things through their unique lens. It may be that you haven’t yet
identified exactly what sets this character apart from your others, so writing
multiple viewpoints can be a good way to force yourself to work it out. I often
actually write from viewpoints I don’t plan on including in my book just as a
way to get inside of a particular character’s head, to write down their
thoughts and let them come to life a bit more.
Well, given these challenges, why would you want to write a
viewpoint character so close to another? What’s the benefit? Well, it can
actually be very powerful to step outside of your main character to get an
objective viewpoint of them. Maybe you’re working through some chapters that
are dialogue heavy, and switching your perspective can help keep things fresh
and maybe provide more insights to the reader about the current situation. I
would hope that your different viewpoint characters would have different
aspects of the current conflict or world that they would focus on, and if that
isn’t the case, writing from their viewpoint is a fantastic way to force
yourself to create that new perspective.
Another advantage of using multiple viewpoints like this is
that it allows you to work around the limitations of your chosen perspective
(first or third limited) in order to play around with information. When
sticking to a single character, it’s almost impossible to present information
in a way where your main character is unaware of it, after all we are seeing
things mostly through that character’s eyes. But when you change perspective,
you can make the reader aware of certain details and implications that the main
character may not have realized yet.
The good folks over at the writing excuses podcast talk about this
a number of times (one good episode is here).
When both your main character and the reader don’t know what’s going on, then
you have a mystery. When the reader knows what’s going on but the main
character doesn’t then you have suspense. By providing an alternate viewpoint,
then you can effectively hide information from your main protagonist and create
suspense in ways that you never could with one perspective.
I can’t stress enough how careful you have to be when
working through this though. I’m as guilty as anyone of writing an alternate
perspective and just hearing the same narrator voice come through in the end.
The viewpoint character needs to have a good thematic reason to take over and
be that leading perspective, so I know that I have to constantly think about
what such a character is bringing to the table that others are not.
As I said above, this is just the first of two planned entries on juggling multiple viewpoints, and I’m sure I’ll have more to say on this as I continue to write. For now, I hope you find some of this helpful or at least interesting. Please feel free to respond to my tweet below if you have some thoughts on challenges or benefits of this that I may not have covered! See ya!
Welcome to the first post in what I am hoping will be a
series of blog posts about various writing subjects. Seeing as this is my first
entry, I think it makes sense to begin with the topic of “Getting Started”.
Essentially, I want to dive into how I approach fitting together the various
pieces of a story when I am planning a new project.
So then, since this is the first post, I have to start with
the one aspect of story creation that I consider absolutely foundational. That
is, the characters. After all, think about some of the most universally beloved
stories out there. When we talk about Star Wars, The Lord of the Rings, or Harry
Potter, the average fan doesn’t typically get excited to discuss the politics
of Coruscant or the implications of what a magic society might actually look
like if anyone really could apparate anywhere at any time. No, instead we talk
about how cool Vader or Gandalf are, or whether Sam was really the hero of
middle earth. It’s through these characters that we form our personal
connections with a work.
So, given that, I think it’s incredibly important to start
any story planning from a character centric point of view. Sure, you do need a
hint of a setting at least to ground your character decisions. I’m not
advocating that just because you love your alien were-rabbit OC then it belongs
in your next romance novel. Even still, you don’t need much more than a basic
setting before you can get started here.
Given that, here are five things I think are most important
when it comes to crafting strong, memorable characters.
1.
Main characters need to have a defined
role
This is especially important early
in the story when the reader is trying to figure out who is who. It gives them
something simple to grasp on to. It also gives the reader some base assumptions
about the character that you can either lean into or subvert. I’m not
necessarily talking about roles like “the smart one” or “the funny one”, but more
so what they actually do within the context of your story.
Let’s say for example that you
want to tell a medieval fantasy story. One simple way to look at character
roles is to examine what they will be doing during action scenes. This might
push you towards having a character who is a strong hand to hand fighter, while
another of your characters focuses more on magic. Additionally, you might find
additional roles like a sneaky thief, an artillery expert, or a smooth-talking
spy. Of course, you don’t have to look at it from an action perspective. You
could just as easily examine the political structure of the entity you are
working with. Whether that’s a country or a small company, you will have people
on top who are in charge, and those working for or against them in manners that
could range from direct to indirect.
One important thing to note is
that a character role should not define who a character is, but it should at
least inform your character in some sense. While a role gives your character a
reason to exist in the story, their personality should become their reason why
they exist in your story. Defining this up front can help you to understand
where a character fits into the larger narrative as you start to form it around
them.
When crafting main characters, you
need to be careful about this.
2.
Your character’s personality needs to be
grounded
I find that some characters are
more believable and convincing than others in stories. That’s not unusual, but
the question I’ve had is why? What makes me connect more with one particular
character over another?
I usually get attached to
characters that feel the most real to me. This means that their personality
cannot be a caricature or cliché. Instead, you need to think more deeply. All
characters should have some kind of nuance to them.
The trap here is when your
characters are too simple, then they become boring. I should have a decent idea
how they will respond to various situations they find themselves in, but I
shouldn’t feel like I can predict all of their thoughts and actions before they
occur. Real people are more complicated than that, and you should embrace that
when you are creating your characters.
Back to our generic fantasy
example from the point above. Let’s say you wanted to move ahead with creating
your hand-to-hand fighter character. The first thing to do is give them a few
different personality traits. Let’s just pick a few at random. Talented,
subordinate, kind of lazy, loud. From there, we can take these traits and begin
molding them into the outlines of a character’s personality.
Maybe this is someone who fights
with the sword. They have been gifted with magic power, but in this universe,
it takes extensive practice to even be considered a beginner mage, and this
character never followed through with their training. So, while they know a lot
about magic, and can sense it around them, they primarily fight with their
sword and are deployed in battle as a counter against enemy mages. They’re also
brash and take risks both on and off the battlefield. They’re a bit rough
around the edges, but at the end of the day they will stand by their
companions.
There, that’s a basic outline
grounded in your world. Notice I haven’t talked about gender yet. I don’t
believe in defining that up front if I can help it. I find that as the outline
of my character takes shape, the character’s gender just asserts itself in my
mind. I am lucky in the regard that I naturally tend to have a pretty even
split of character genders. I believe that if you are writing things like
fantasy or science fiction, there’s no reason why you can’t have an even gender
split, and you should strive for that if you find yourself with an imbalance.
3.
“But” is your strongest tool
As you start to get an outline of
your character, you can make things more compelling by constantly using the
word “but” to dig deeper. The word “but” can lead you to discover things that
are hidden beneath the surfaces of your character’s personality. It exposes
contradictions or dichotomies that feel organic and can lead to a more
well-rounded character.
This is where you start iterating.
Let’s again take our swords(wo)man from above and see what we can discover
about them. One thing that stands out is they are lazy. So, let’s ask “but
why?” Maybe this character is very naturally talented. They mastered the sword
at a young age and grew up surrounded by praise. When confronted with something
they couldn’t easily master, in magic, they instead gave up on it. They never
learned how to work hard; things always came easily to them.
“But if that’s true, then what?
How did they react when things didn’t come easy?” Well, maybe they blame that
challenge itself for their hardships. This character takes great satisfaction
in fighting against and beating powerful mages, since perhaps they see magic as
a whole as the challenge they couldn’t surmount. They also can’t escape the deep-seated
shame that they feel for themselves, knowing they had the capacity to master
this skill but instead have let themselves down, leading to an outspoken
brashness about them to cover up any form of weakness. This all leads to them
regularly throwing caution to the wind and exposing themselves recklessly to
danger at times, as they don’t believe deep down, they are worthy of what they
have.
In order for this character to be
part of your story, as we have defined them, they will probably need support
from your other characters. They would need someone else to keep them in check,
to remind them of their good parts. They are a bit of a wildcard.
I feel like we have a good outline
now, but you can keep this exercise going for as long as you’d like. Asking
yourself “but if it is true that they take dangerous risks, what does that mean
for their personal life? For their interpersonal connections? For their
ambitions or future plans?”
4.
Where did your character come from?
We’ve already touched a bit on
that above, but if you haven’t thought about this yet, this is definitely the
time to do so. Characters don’t just spring into being the first time you write
a line of dialogue for them in your story. They have their entire lives behind
them, and where they come from can be a great way of rounding them out.
Think about their childhood. Maybe
it was relatively normal. They grew up with a middle-class family and were
trained to inherit the family business, or left to learn a trade. Maybe they
were well educated from an early age. Maybe they struggled, and went through
periods of homelessness or hardship on the streets. These are just some
examples of how we can help build out their past.
If you get stuck, just like the
“but” exercise above, there are questions you can ask yourself that can help
guide you. For instance: “Did they grow up with both their parents? Just one?
Or did extended family or some other institution take them in? What were their
friends like? Did they have any dreams? What are their goals, short term and
long term? When they are introduced in your story, are they happy with where they
are at in life?”
All of these questions can help to
give depth to your characters, and make them feel more real. You, as an author,
are in a constant fight to get buy in from your readers. If you are writing
something fantastical like fantasy or sci-fi, that task becomes even more
difficult. One way you can fight back is by having relatable, complex
characters that your reader can latch onto and identify with.
One thing you might have realized
is that the deeper we dive into the past, the more there seems to be a limit to
what we can do without a plot or developed setting to guide us. When we define
the backstory of our characters, we are also somewhat defining the backstory of
our world, which should in turn inform our plot.
I’ll be returning more to this
point in a later blog post as I examine how plot and character can influence
each other.
5.
Identify the fun
The last, and probably most
important point. You have to personally enjoy the characters you are writing.
If they are boring or annoying to you, that feeling will definitely come across
to the reader. I’m not saying you can’t write characters who are annoying, just
that you should be at least somewhat excited about them.
If you are struggling to write one
of your characters, often times the best way I’ve found to break through is to
really dig deep into what about them is compelling. When I do this, I find that
characters I’m tired of are usually missing something fundamental. They don’t
have that spark that makes them more than a cardboard cutout.
Hopefully if you’ve started with
the first four points above, then you have a pretty well-rounded character. But
sometimes for whatever reason it just doesn’t work. If you’ve lost the fun of
the character, then it might be time to return to the drawing board and
reimagine who they are and their place in the story.
It’s a scary concept, rethinking a
character who you may have already written in, but I’ve done it more than once
and I’m always happier in the end. Go with your gut. Your characters are the
most important connection you make with your reader. If you don’t believe in
them yourself, then how is the reader supposed to?
Well, there you have it. Five things to keep in mind when
constructing characters for your stories. I don’t always go point by point like
a checklist when brainstorming characters, but these things can help me when
I’m stuck or looking for inspiration, and hopefully it can do the same for you.
This won’t be the last time I discuss character by a long shot, but I’ll be leaving this topic behind to discuss getting started with plotting next week. Hopefully you’ll join me then! See ya!