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Thickening the Plot…Is That Even a Real Word?
Here’s the deal: I’m a wantabe novelist.
Sadly, I’m not the only one. There’s like a hundred trillion (and that’s only a slight exaggeration) of us wantabes.
Do I have any skills that my hundred trillion competitors have? Probably not. Sure, I was a journalist for five years. I’ve got the basic writing process down. I can put sentences together to form coherent paragraphs (most of the time). I’ve always had a BIG imagination—I wrote my first love story in seventh grade. I read a lot. I belong to a writer’s group.
As I mentioned in my previous post, I have two novels 75 percent complete. Are they good? Maybe. Good enough to get published? Probably not. Do I want to be published? You bet.
So I got a book to help improve my writing. There are several hundred books on “how to be a writer,” which by the way totally gives credence to my statement about there being a hundred trillion wantabes.
The Plot Thickens, written by literary agent Noah Lukeman, is supposed to teach “beginning and advanced writers how to implement the fundamentals of successful plot development, such as character building and heightened suspense and conflict. Writers will find it impossible to walk away from this invaluable guide—a veritable fiction-writing workshop—without boundless new ideas.”
For all my wantabe friends, I’m going to give The Plot Thickens a shot. I’ll post my progress here. If anyone cares, you’re welcome to follow along.
Wish me luck.
Chapter 1: Characterization
The first chapter is supposed to help you develop your main character. Lukeman gives the perspective author literally a thousand question to help you “know” the character like you know yourself. One small issue with my YA Fantasy Fiction…it has four main characters. I know, I know…I always bite off more than I can chew. So I’ll run through the exercises and give a quick summary of what I’m developing for each character.
Personally, I wouldn’t waste my time reading all the stuff written below. But maybe if you scan it, you’ll get an idea on how I’m working through Chapter 1.
Section 1: Appearance I
Annie
Face: High cheekbones, pointed features (nose, chin), thin lips, almond shaped jade green eyes, long eyelashes. Very fair skin. Hair: Dark Brown, thick, straight. Wears it pulled back, whatever’s convenient. Body: She’s short, about 5’2”. Small boned, but strong for her size. Still has “fat girl boobs.” Age: She’s 16 and she’s 25. (The story takes place during two different parts of her life). Other: Her nails are short. Long nails aren’t functional. She wears no make-up (at least not until later). Opinion of herself: Annie thinks she’s average looking, although she’s glad she lost all her prepubescent chub. Most people think she’s stunning. The contrast of very dark hair, fair skin and bright eyes is a rarity. Clothes: Functional. She doesn’t worry too much about fashion when she’s at home. Annie worries a lot more when people are staring at her (which happens a lot). She’s modest. Doesn’t like being on display. Grooming: She’s always clean. Her hair is heavy and hot, so she likes to wear it up. Body language: Never wants to be the center of attention. Is quiet, tries to keep to herself (unless she’s mad). She is graceful, but not necessarily sexy. Tends to run from trouble. Voice: Soft spoken unless she’s angry or with someone she’s very comfortable with. Has a musical laugh.
Emma
Face: Structurally, she and Annie look a lot alike. High cheekbones, pointed features (nose, chin). Emma has a wide mouth with moderately full lips. Her eyes look a lot like Annie’s except that they are a pale grey-blue. Fair skin. Hair: Average brown, waist-length and wavy. Loves to wear it down. It always looks freshly done. Body: She’s not tall, maybe 5’4”. She’s thin framed, long-legged, but not a strong or incredibly athletic person. She can ride a horse and dance at balls, but has never done anything more physical. Not a lot of muscle tone. Age: She’s 15 and looks it. Other: Her fingernails are always perfectly manicured. Her skin is very soft, well-cared for. Wears a little make-up (their version of mascara) but doesn’t need much. Opinion of herself: Emma’s confident in her appearance; a little more than warranted. Few people have as many resources to devote to their appearance as she does. Grooming: Always perfect. Stylishly dressed and coiffed. Has a hundred dresses. Body language: Is outwardly emotional. Folds her arms, stomps her foot, taps her toe. Can be sexy when she wants to. Voice: Chameleon. It depends on the situation. She’s commanding (most of the time) but can be whiney or seductive.
Caellen
Face: Square face, square jaw, straight nose. He has prominent cheek bones that leave a little hollow under them. His eyes aren’t large, but his dark eyelashes frame them beautifully. Hazel, eyes with flecks of gold. Olive skin. Hair: Brown, but lightens in the sun. Very curly. Body: He’s 6’3” and all muscle. My husband would describe him as “super safety.” Broad shouldered, narrow hipped, strong legs. If there’s a muscle, he’s got it, but not in the scary body builder-way. He’s fast, agile, and well-trained. Age: He’s 18, but looks and acts a lot older. He has a lot of responsibility. Other: Mostly dressed in uniform. Takes care of himself. Opinion of Himself: Cael knows he’s hot and uses it as an asset. Grooming: Likes his hair longer, but cuts it short to please his mother. Always clean. Perfectly dressed for every situation. Body Language: Extremely confident. Attracts attention and likes it. Tends to clench his jaw when he is angry. Sticks his tongue in his bottom lip. Knows just want to do to have the upper hand in every situation (except with Annie). Voice: A military commander’s voice. Can yell when the situation demands it, but can also control with a whisper.
Chisholm
Face: Oval-ish shaped face. High forehead, arched dark eyebrows, super thick black eyelashes, deep dimples, and beautiful full lips, olive skin. Hair: Blonde, short, messy. An awesome contrast to his brown eyes. Body: He’s six-foot even. Not as muscled as Cael, but every muscle he has is super defined. Great shoulders and triceps. Perfect abs. Age: He’s barely 17. Other: Carries himself with confidence, has a definite swagger. Disdain for nobility. Opinion of himself: He figures he’s a decent looking guy, or he’d have more trouble attracting women. Makes Emma drool. Grooming: Likes to be clean. And clean shaven. Changes his shirt a lot. Likes his hair messy. Body Language: Acts more confident than he usually feels. Doesn’t like to be off balance, but it happens from time to time. Can tell a good story. Voice: Typical voice of a 17 year-old past puberty. Not as well-versed as Caellen.
What did I learn from writing down all this appearance-related stuff?
Not much. I’m pretty good with physical characterization. How can you write a book if you don’t know what your character looks like? I’d actually already completed this exercise for ALL of my characters.
Maybe tomorrow’s lesson, Appearance II, will be more valuable. -
Writing? Hmmm….Good Luck with That.
So some of you know that I’m a total wantabe novelist (LOL. I wrote that sentence pretending that people actually see this blog).
I have two manuscripts 75 percent complete. I haven’t finished either of them for good reasons. It’s time to kill off a major character in potential novel No. 1. It’s really hard for me. It’s a little bit like premeditating the murder of your brain child.
I know exactly how it’s supposed to happen. I’ve scripted his death in my head two dozen times. It will be quick, but very sad. I’m hoping to shock the crap out of the reader. When I told my sister, who has read part of the book, she screamed, “No! Not him!”She gave me exactly the reaction I wanted. Perfect.
But there’s one small issue with moving forward with this murder (really, I’m still working up the guts to do it). I just read a manuscript that a friend of mine has already sent out to agents. And it’s so good. It’s totally marketable. A publisher should pick it up. And worst of all, it’s cleaner and more compelling than my book. Sure she’s worked on it for a year-and-a-half (compared to my eight weeks), but I wonder if novel No. 1 has any hope. Should I just give up?
That takes us to novel No. 2. I started writing this particular story five years ago when I was pregnant with Gavin. My computer ate a good portion of it and I was so frustrated that I quit. When we moved to Virginia and was insanely lonely, I opened it up to get a good laugh. Instead, I realized that it was salvageable.
So I worked on it until I got the idea for novel No. 1. I couldn’t sleep until I got the plot and characters out of my head, so I stopped working on No. 2 and focused on No. 1.
I cranked out 12,000 words in about three days. That’s an incredible rate for me. It wasn’t painful, it wasn’t labored. It was magical.
I fell in love.
The imagery was poignant, the characters were vived, the plot was intense. Or so I thought.
Just like many parents, I ignored the faults of my children.
My first writer’s group was akin to the midnight bail out call.
Your perfect child has been arrested for something unthinkable. His voice trembles as he lays out his mistake, carefully explaining each detail. You close your eyes in shock and horror. Your mind shouts, “How could I have missed this? How could things have gone so far astray?”
You hurry out of bed, throw on whatever clothes you can find and rush to the police station. Out of love and obligation, you want to be at your child’s side. “I will fix this; I will find a way to make things better.”
A writer doesn’t have that obligation. I don’t have to bail my novel out. No one needs to know that it’s not perfect, fabulous. No one needs to know that I’m average. No one needs to know that I ever, ever tried to write at all. My brain child can remain locked forever in my hard drive. The light of day need never shine on it again.
I can become that parent, that writer, that forgets this story ever existed.
Right?
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Taking the Stairs
Since no one actually reads this blog, I can post whatever I want. Even if it is random and incoherent. Like this post below:
One of my children is crying.
I hurry up the stairs.
As rapidly ascend the 15 steps, I have a revelation.
“I don’t sprint up the stairs anymore,” Self says to Me. “I hurry, but I don’t actually run up the stairs. There is no bounce in my step and I certainly don’t take more than one step at a time.”
“Hmmm….” Me replies. “That is very interesting.”
So Self and I (that’s Me’s nickname) have this little conversation.
“When did I stop running up the stairs?” Self asks.
“Not exactly sure. We didn’t live in a house with stairs for a long time.”
“That is true,” Self agrees. “Did I stop running up the stairs when I was pregnant?”
“Well most certainly,” Me says. “It’s difficult to run up the stairs with that monstrous belly.”
“But why didn’t I go back to running up the stairs once the children were born?”
“Hmmmm…..”Me thinks. “We don’t run up the stairs now because we always have things to carry. It’s difficult to run with a baby on our hip or a laundry basket.”
“True, true. But we go up these stairs at least 100 times everyday. Why don’t we run some of the time?”
Me nods. “Let’s try that.”
So I spend a couple of days sprinting up the stairs every chance I get.
As I’m running I have a new revelation.
To Me I say, “This hurts a bit. But not so bad. Didn’t quit running because it hurt.”
Self replies, “We have become lazy.”
“No. I don’t think that’s it. We’re just old.”
“Well that’s ugly.”
“Old, ugly and slow. What a lovely revelation.”
Morale of the this story: Sprint up the stairs unless you can’t. No one wants to be old, ugly and slow.
