A recipe for a YA fantasy sequel - Holly Race

The deadline for the first draft of my second novel is looming, so I'm keeping my post short this month! Here you have it - my very own recipe for writing said sequel:

- Take one (1) Chosen One trope, established in the first novel. Subvert.

- Extract the world building from the first book, add a little more context and lore, knead and allow to rise for a month or two until bubbly.

- Blend plot and character arcs together until thoroughly combined. Add the world building and bring all together in a nice messy gloop.

- Marinade a handful of secondary characters until they are established and likeable. This will be made harder by the fact that you killed off a load of them in your first book and now need to create new ones. Stir into the mixture in the knowledge that only a few will survive to the third book.

- Crack three fight scenes and a battle into the mixture one by one, making sure each of them is more ambitious than those in the first book, despite the fact that when you wrote the first book, you went all in.

- Decide that you don't have enough storylines and decide to include a mystery plot, ostensibly for complexity of flavour but also because you just love a good mystery.

- Add one (or two) romances into the mix, for sweetness, and fold in lightly.

- Bake for a year, turning the temperature up to 'anxiety and panic' for the final week.

- Decorate with a pretty cover and atmospheric blurb, and present next to your first book for comparison and judgement.

Latent Processing by Vanessa Harbour

Forgive me this is going to be a brief post. It’s been a struggle. I am feeling positively discombobulated. I am currently overwhelmed by marking but also last night’s ‘statement’ seemed to throw the world off-kilter as we know it. I am not going into the politics of it as this is not the place but it seems to have created a lot of confusion and upset today.

Feeling Discombobulated

The glorious author Kathryn Evans posed the question the other day ‘Is thinking part of writing?’

It made me stop and think (excuse the pun). I had literally just finished writing the first draft of a novel, so had been emersed in the process. It seemed an ideal time to consider her question.

I realised how much thinking I do when writing.  

When I am developing an idea, I make notes and I mull over the concept for quite a while before I start putting pen to narrative.

While I am in the process of writing, I am constantly thinking about it. Even when I am not writing. In the shower, doing the ironing, going for a walk. I will be contemplating the scenes I am currently writing or the chapter I am about to start. It is often during these moments that I will get inspiration for an exciting new element or it will be as simple as I will realise that if I add something into an earlier scene it’ll make the next chapter even more exciting or just make more sense.

Now I have finished that first draft, I am thinking again. Thinking about the areas I know I need to develop. I have set the manuscript aside while I finish the marking, but it is still there at the back of my mind. Niggling away.

Imogen Cooper always calls it latent processing. And it never stops.

So in answer to your question my dear friend Kathy, thinking is definitely part of writing. I agree.

Candy Gourlay, Kathy Evans and me! Happy Times

Do you all do lots of thinking too when writing?

Dr Vanessa Harbour

@VanessaHarbour

www.vanessaharbour.co.uk

http://chaosmos-outofchaoscomesorder.blogspot.com

Green Shoots - Ciaran Murtagh

I don't know if you've noticed, but there's a lot of doom and gloom about the place at the moment. You all know what's wrong with the world and probably have a list of people to blame alongside  a heap of specific personal daily crises to deal with before even considering knuckling down to write.

I have become teacher to a six year old, professional make up model to a three year old, financial emergency service to a twenty four year old and tee total at quite the wrong time.

But rather than rehearse the problems I thought it might be good to accentuate the positive, so here goes.

We know this feeling

As self employed creatives we've always been in a precarious position when it comes to employment and finance, it's odd to find the rest of the world joining us. However, we know what this feels like, we are used to this uncertainty. It's easy to get caught up in the hysteria of those experiencing this for the first time through no fault of their own and certainly not through choice. And yes, everything else that is going on adds to the stress of the situation more than usual, but take a deep breath, you of all people have got this.

What do you normally do when work dries up? You dig it out. You self start. You get your stall in order so that when everything is open for business you are ready to go.  What did you do the first time? You knew nobody, you had no contacts, you just had yourself and you got started. It's exhausting but you need to do it again.

Write something you love. 

I just wrote a sketch for Crackerjack. Is it going to pay me a fortune? No. Is it going to get my kid through maths? No. Is it the best use of my time? Probably not. But then again - in a time like this, what is? It's very easy to think that what we do, in the scheme of things, isn't really contributing much. I'm not on the front line, I'm not saving lives, I'm not looking for a cure, I'm not fixing the problem, I'm writing fart jokes and covering grown men in custard. Here's one I made earlier...

https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p07zmqlv

But - and this is crucial - it's what I do. It's what I'm good at. Not everybody is equipped to fix the global problem we face. The best thing anyone can do in this situation is what they do best and trust it will be enough. If everyone does their best, we'll get through this. Right now a fart gag might not be helping, but give it six months and we'll all be in need of a laugh.

Do what you can today to make tomorrow better.

There is still work out there. 

It's hard to find and even harder to get but it is out there. In particular the animation industry is responding to this crisis very well indeed. If you have ever written for animation then dust off the contact list and start emailing, if you haven't then spend some time investigating how you might. One thing this virus has taught us is how quickly things can dry up. Learn what you can from it.

Most live action scripting is being shelved, but animation is going great guns, try and skill up so that the next time this happens you've got places to turn. If you don't fancy scripting start thinking about an original idea. Or even try and turn that book idea that may be hard to get off the ground right now into an animation idea and start pitching -  people will want content, you can give it to them.

On the book front, educational publishers still seem to be generating work. Anecdotally I know this isn't true for every publisher, but I have been approached by a couple in recent weeks to consider pitching new ideas. Again, if you've ever done any educational work dust off those contacts, email those commissioning editors and see what you can dig out. As with everything, it's tough and it's competitive but you never know.

Good luck, stay safe and lets hope May brings sunshine and beer gardens and pubs that are open.

Taking Care of Business - Ciaran Murtagh

People always think it must be brilliant working from home, and as I sit in my freezing shed with frost on the inside of the windows waiting for the heater to come out of hibernation long enough to stop my breath steaming, I have to agree.

Sure it has it's problems, like wondering if you're going to make enough money  to justify turning on the heaters in the first place, but it also has lots of benefits. You're your own boss. You can work when you like and you can fit working hours around other things you might need to do in the day, like picking fluff out of your belly button, nursing that Bargain Hunt addiction and wondering what you're going to wear for dress down Friday, even though every day is technically dress down Friday. Truth be told, I sometimes have a 'can't be bothered to get dressed at all' Thursday...

But work does still need to be done. You can't just sit in your shed inhaling the sweet fumes of your a-ha themed scented candle (true fact) and dream of being JK. So how can you make a success of working from home? As Elvis said - you gotta Take Care of Business.

1) Routine

There is something about a commute to work that gets you out of home space and into work space. I'm not saying I want to sit on an overcrowded, overpriced train in order to be more effective, but I find I have to do something. When your commute is literally 'walk to the shed' or in previous incarnations 'walk to the spare room' then there's little time to transition.

This morning I've got myself up (big tick there), got two kids up, dispatched them to two different schools and nurseries, did the bins, tidied bedrooms and now it's time to work. Trouble is I don't really feel like it. I need to do something to kick myself into gear.  For me it's a blast at the gym, for you it might be a walk, a swim, reading the paper, something that kicks you into a different place. It may seem like you're wasting your time - the kids'll be back before you know it, there's stuff to be done. But as Billy Bragg said:

'I know it looks like I'm just reading the paper, 

but these ideas I'll turn to gold dust later

'Cause I'm a writer not a decorator...' 

2) Planning

I like to know what I'm doing in a day. Some people like to plan the night before, that's never been my bag. It's also impossible sometimes. I have book deadlines that might be a month or two in advance, I have TV deadlines which are literally 'by lunchtime' and I have the joys of working with Australia and the US who work through the night to give me work I didn't know existed in the morning.

Regardless, each morning I try and make a plan for myself. It doesn't have to be colour coded and covered in sticky notes, literally a numbered list - I am going to do these things in this order and then I'm going to stop, unless Australia wakes up early. It gives my day structure, and while it might not go according to plan, at least I know what I'm diverting from so I can come back to it in due course.

3) Breaks

Take breaks. You are not a loser for taking breaks. Procrastinating is not the same as taking a break. Recognise when you've hit a wall. I can spend an hour staring at a screen getting nowhere, I go and make a cup of tea and the thing clicks into place like a magic eye puzzle (ask your parents). Breaks are important.

4) Writing is not the only work

My job is a writer, therefore you might think the only time I'm doing my job properly is when I'm putting words on a page. It's not true. We're not coal miners, we're not paid by the tonne. Research is work. Answering emails is work. Sorting out your receipts is work. Invoicing is work. Sometimes - and don't tell my wife - sitting in a bath with a notepad and pen at two in the afternoon, is work. Don't beat yourself up too much about targets and word counts. If you are doing something that contributes to making the core business of what you do easier and more successful, you are working.

5) Don't eat the biscuit

That is literally it. In an office, you eat all the biscuits people judge you. When you're your own boss you can eat all the biscuits, go out and buy a new packet so nobody knows, eat them too and then only get blamed for eating one packet of biscuits. That has never EVER happened by the way.

What I mean is, fight your urges and your temptations. There are lots of things you could be doing and no one is going to know if you do them instead of work apart from yourself. Know what your distractions are and try and break the habit of going to them. You'll get more done, and in my case, stay slimmer.

That's it. Merry Christmas. Keep on trucking and may all your notebook pages be white.

Six questions I ask about every scene - by Rowena House

For this blog, as always when I’m blathering on about craft issues, I’m indebted to the many writing gurus I’ve read over the years. This one in particular is far more a synthesis of their ideas than the product of any original thinking of mine, so I’ll start by thanking some of the experts to whom I return again and again for inspiration: Emma Darwin, Robert McKee, John Yorke, James Scott Bell & Shaun Coyne.]

So, the six questions I ask of each scene…

1. Why is my viewpoint character in this place at this time?

The why question helps me work out the motivation of each viewpoint character at that particular time & place in the story. It is the first question because motivation is such a critical issue for the credibility of a story (and also where agents and editors often focus first when reading a new manuscript).

Thinking about motivation also helps me see the scene from a reader’s point of view: the actions, reactions and decisions of the scene protagonist will only make sense to them if they know why the character is doing what they’re doing, and accept (emotionally) that it is a realistic thing for them to be doing under the specific circumstances I have created on the page.

As a writer, drilling down ever deeper into the why question makes for deeper and truer characters, too. If at any time the answer to the question why is ‘because I need my character to be here/to do X for the plot to work’, then it’s almost certainly time to rethink that scene.  

2. What is my viewpoint character planning to do in this scene?

Establishing the intent [or scene goal] for the viewpoint character is the next question I ask, whether it’s an action scene (the character is doing what they planned to do) or a reaction scene (something unexpected happened to them in an earlier scene and they’re working out what to do about it).

Even if the main point of the scene in plot terms is the next unexpected event, I try to see if this event could also stop my scene protagonist from doing what they intended. It that way, the event is a dramatic force of antagonism for the character, rather than something purely extraneous.

To keep each scene relevant to the overall story, I also work out how this particular scene goal is a stepping stone towards the protagonist’s overall Story Goal. For example, in my WW1 novel, The Goose Road, the Story Goal was Angelique’s aim to save the family farm for her soldier brother. Each scene worked towards this in an incremental way.

3. Who or what is stopping them from achieving their scene goal?

Basically, there are four types of antagonism to chose from: 1) inner conflicts (emotional and psychological), 2) inter-personal conflicts (another character or characters); 3) societal conflicts (e.g. the character’s  social status makes it hard for them to have agency, like Lyra at the start of His Dark Materials), and 4) environmental or physical obstacles, such as flooding rivers, high walls, labyrinths etc. etc.

When building towards big climactic scenes, much fun can be had in combining forces of antagonism to make them complex, e.g. where one problem builds on another, making the scene uniquely difficult for the protagonist. For example, a hero has a debilitating phobia about dark enclosed spaces (an inner conflict) but his only escape route is a pitch black tunnel (a physical obstacle).

We can then complicate the situation still further by making it rain (an additional environmental obstacle as the tunnel floods) with the prison guards banging on the blocked cell door behind him (interpersonal conflict). 

Okay, this is a crass example (I think it’s been done to death on screen) but complicating complex forces of antagonism is a tool well worth have in one’s storytelling tool box (to borrow Stephen King’s metaphor in his brilliant On Writing).

4. What happens as a result of the conflict/s between the viewpoint character & these force/s of antagonism?

It’s pretty much a truism that conflict drives plots forward. So, when plotting, it can be helpful to think of the story as a series of ‘beats’: action-reaction, followed by re-evaluation of the situation, and then a fresh decision about the way forward. This leads naturally to rising conflict, where characters have to take ever riskier decisions leading to ever bolder actions.

While each scene may only take the protagonist one step along this road, a sequence of scenes which climax at a new, riskier strategy (from which there is no going back) is the lifeblood of drama.

The point of Question 4, therefore, is to check whether I have mined every scene for optimum drama each step along the way.

5. How do the events of the scene make the viewpoint character think & feel?

Once upon a time, it was acceptable for writers to tell readers about their characters through extensive biographies, delivered via backstory and exposition. Today (or so we’re repeatedly told) readers prefer to understand fictional characters through their emotional & psychological reactions to conflicts, tensions and pressures within the story.

At times, we may still decide to narrate some backstory, or allow our characters to debate issues or themes, but, overall, contemporary scenes need to include characters doing something significant or making a meaningful decision based on credible thoughts and feelings.

6. What is the scene protagonist going to do next?

If conflict drives stories, then change drives scenes. So my final question is a big one: what changes in the scene? What’s going to happen next as a result of that change? In both character-led and more plot-orientated stories, protagonist generally initiate action, so that’s where I focus this final question.

Firstly, I review how the next action will up the jeopardy in some way. Is the cost of failure greater than before, are the stakes higher? If not, how can I make them so?

Then, how does this next action link with other plotlines? Does the linkage need to be clearer or do I want the reader to experience an Ah-ha moment of realisation later on in the story?

Finally, what if this action never happens? Would it matter? If not, does this scene deserve a place in the manuscript at all?

Right. That’s the washing done and I’ve got to pack for a trip to France, sailing tonight to visit a writer friend, with gale force winds forecast in the Channel. Gulp. Happy writing one & all.

Website: rowenahouse.com

Twitter: @houserowena

Writing: The Next Generation - Ciaran Murtagh

This month I was lucky enough to head up to Manchester with my family to watch an episode of Crackerjack being filmed. I've written quite a few sketches for this show and it was a real thrill to see them performed in front of a studio audience. One of the sketches featured past presenters - Stu Francis, Don MacLean, Bernie Clifton, Basil Brush and Jan Hunt. The idea of the sketch was for them to pass the baton onto new presenters Sam and Mark and it was quite moving watching these performers I had grown up with paying it forward in that way.

Stu Francis was the Crackerjack presenter I grew up with. He's partly responsible for me doing the job I do now. I never thought I'd ever end up writing for him, but this remarkable career sometimes throws up those moments. I was writing silly jokes for the man who made me appreciate the value of silly jokes in the first place.

Writers are often connected to generations past and present in a very tangible way. We spend time in schools learning from the writers of the future and we spend time with books learning from the writers of the past. There is a continuum to our craft and to our work that transcends the time and place in which it was written.

Sitting in the Crackerjack studio, 30 years later than perhaps would have been ideal for my 8 year old self, it struck me how much I had been inspired by it as a child.

It's not just the show itself though, the people making it have also paid it forward. The first bit of TV I ever wrote featured Sam and Mark, they now present the show. The first bit of TV I ever wrote was commissioned on spec by Steve Ryde, he's now executive producer of Crackerjack. He took a risk on me, gave me some of his time and expertise, and now I have a career in a business I knew nothing about a decade ago.

This week I got nominated for a writing Bafta. If Steve Ryde hadn't taken that chance, if Crackerjack hadn't made me appreciate the value of a pun, I might never have been in this position. I don't forget that, which is why it's important when someone reaches out for advice or mentorship I do my best to help. Most of our careers are a hotch potch of lucky breaks, hard work and the occasional helping hand.  It's our duty to find the time to pay it forward whenever we can.

Notes on editing dialogue for dramatic purpose - by Rowena House

In their excellent writing advice guide, On Editing, Helen Corner-Bryant and Kathryn Price note that: “great dialogue is about striking a balance between naturalism and purpose - knowing how you want your dialogue to sound, but also what you want it to achieve.”

Personally, I’d tweak that to read: “dialogue is about balancing dramatic purpose and simulated naturalism. Know what you want the dialogue to achieve, then decide how you want your characters to sound.”

A pedantic difference, perhaps, but increasingly it seems to me to be more than a chicken-and-egg situation. It’s about demarcating in one’s mind the difference between the product of writing and the process of getting there. The product, in this case, being the speech on the page, and the process being the craft of storytelling through dialogue.

In case this is of interest to others, here are some edited notes on the subject which I prepared for a mentee recently. Sorry they’re rather didactic; time ran away from me this month and I haven’t had time to make them more “bloggy”.

Anyhow…

How does writing dialogue differ from storytelling through dialogue?

Writing dialogue relates to dialects and manners of speech, attributions, the rhythms and sounds of speech.

Storytelling through dialogue is about its dramatic purpose.

Editing for dramatic purpose therefore begins with the questions one asks about each conversation on the page. For me, the first question is this: what is this exchange achieving in terms of the overall story?

Really, there’s only one correct answer: it’s moving the plot along by…

One can fill in these dots in any number of ways. The dialogue might illustrate to the reader some aspect of a character’s personality, or develop a relationship, or lead to a moment of internal revelation, an epiphany of some sort.

Plot-wise, the protagonist might be prising information out of an ally or an antagonist, or maybe they’re building up to confess something important. The options are legion.

But in any event, the next question should be: are both the speaker’s intentions and the listener’s reactions clear to the reader?

I’m entirely persuaded by the many editors and writing gurus who say reaction beats are essential to signpost the direction of a conversation at pretty much every step.

            “I can’t bear that shade of red on a woman,” Deirdre said.

            Her husband rolled his eyes.

Without the reaction beat, Deirdre’s opinion floats, untethered, in the ether.

[Reactions that are actions also break up dialogue, which helps vary pace. Three to five exchanges is the maximum I’ve been recommended before something has to happen.]

Next I look for conflict in the dialogue: not shouty arguments but rising tension. As a rule of thumb, the more diametrically opposed the intentions of the participants in the conversation are, the more dramatic the dialogue is likely to be. If Character A really, really wants to get information out of Character B, give Character B a cracking good reason for wanting to keep that information secret.

Subtext comes next. That’s because, according to psychologists I’ve read, a large part of the pleasure and motivation for reading is the satisfaction we get from fathoming out the clues that the writer teases us with. If characters say exactly what they mean from the start, there’s nothing for the reader to work out, and the chances are the dialogue will come across as flat and boring, and the scene as a whole will lack nuance and subtlety.

[This assumes, of course, that the intended reader isn’t too young to understand the need to read between the lines. I don’t know how young is too young for subtext - it seems like an age since I talked to a child under 11 - but I’m pretty sure younger readers than that understand that people don’t always say what they mean.]

As with all dialogue, less is more when it comes to subtext:

            “Jasmine, you’re being stupid,” Dave said. “I didn’t even see Zoe yesterday.”

            Jasmine smiled. The Flame Pink lipstick she’d seen on his t-shirt told her everything she needed to know; only Zoe had been wearing that shade at the party.

            “Yeah. Right. Sorry.” She went into the kitchen and texted her mum. “Pick me up, would you? I want to come home.”

Despite the words spoken, the reader knows that Jasmine knows that Dave is lying. Her text to her mum is immediately comprehensible because the reader understands the subtext of her words, her smile and her action. We, the reader, might even infer from her smile that she’s been lied to before; this time it’s the final straw. The relationship is over.

Which leads onto….

What changes in the story due to this dialogue?

Without change, there is stasis, which is dull, so I subscribe to the theory that every scene needs a turning point, and without one, it’s not a proper scene.

As mentioned above, revelations and epiphanies are classic turning points for dialogue. Unexpected action - an interruption to the dialogue of some sort - also turns scenes effectively. Mixing and matching these options varies pace and keeps things fresh. [There are lots of other structural issues around turning points such as how they relate to the story’s Main Dramatic Question, but that’s for another time. Perhaps.]

Meanwhile, and I hesitate to add this given the sophistication of ABBA reader-writers, but since I’ve just been listening to Hilary Mantel’s amazing Reith Lectures again, and even she felt the need to remind her university audience of this original sin, I don’t feel too bad repeating it here: never give information to the reader that is already known by your characters in the guise of dialogue. Sure you see it in published books, but exposition disguised as dialogue really is a killer of authenticity.

Thank you for reading! Back again next month.

rowenahouse.com

@HouseRowena on Twitter