Publication Day: The Dampest of Squibs - Ciaran Murtagh

I'm not that bothered by publication days. There. I've said it. 

By the time a book is ready to come out I'm usually so sick of the sight of it that the thought of having a party to celebrate it's existence fills me with dread. I mean, I'm not a natural, centre of attention party person anyway - that's why I'm an author - but even without the party, publication day always feels like a bit of an anti-climax.

There are so many little triumphs that seem worthy of celebration, but usually they happen on a rainy Tuesday in the quiet of your shed.  I celebrate every time I have an idea that might lead to something else. I celebrate whenever I fill a plot hole with a nifty bit of thinking. I celebrate when I finish the damn thing - boy do I celebrate! I celebrate when I start to see roughs and sketches for art work. I celebrate when I get delivered an advance copy. But publication day? That doesn't feel like it's for me.  That feels like it's for my publishers and their Twitter handle.

That's not to say that the celebration is done. I celebrate when I get an email from a kid who's really enjoyed the book. I celebrate every time I do a workshop and feel like I've connected with a class. I celebrate quietly whenever I see my book in a library - remember them? But it's those moments that I value, not the grandeur of publication day. It's maybe why I prefer Christmas Eve to Christmas Day. 

Please don't think me churlish or ungrateful, I'm thrilled that my book is out there for all to see and I appreciate the hard work from a whole team of people who have struggled to get it there. But I'm a writer, I celebrate the victories I feel I've earned through doing my job, and by the time publication comes along they're long gone.  By the time publication day comes along a year or so after I've finished the thing, that book is history and I'm onto the next and the next and the next. 

So publication day always leaves me feeling a little low. My book is out there. Will anyone notice? Does it matter that I've added another to the pile?  Maybe, maybe not. But the real buzz, the real sparks happen before and after - it's those I celebrate.  

Endings Part I: where to start? By Rowena House

My favourite writing guru, Robert McKee, explains in Story the great benefit to the writer of knowing our endings: once we have one, we can reverse the process of cause and effect to build a better story.

Whether you retrofit that better story after finishing a first draft or plot it from the outset is a personal choice, or maybe a function of our psychology. Me, I plot because I can’t help it, but I try not to over-plot as that hampers writing with passion and honesty.

But sooner or later we all have to look at the story from a reader’s point of view. And that, I think, is when we really need to decide on an outline for the ending at least.

Not convinced? Then how about this: the ending contains the “obligatory scene”, the one the entire story has been building towards (more in Part II next month about which scene this is, the Crisis decision or Climax action).

If the obligatory scene doesn’t resolve the problem set up in Act 1, the overall plot (and major character arc) will almost certainly need a wholesale rethink to tie the two together and create a unified whole.

The problem (as every writer, editor and guru worth their salt points out) is that original endings are getting harder to write; there are just so many stories about these days, readers have seen it all before.

The solution? To expend a great deal of imaginative time and effort devising the most satisfying ending possible within our story worlds.

That way, fingers crossed, readers (and editors) will ask for more.

Okay, fine, said a writer friend with whom I was having this conversation last week. But what does all that mean in practice? These two ABBA blogs are my attempt to answer his question as far as I can.

Plotting endings

Scouring the literature, I’d say there’s a broad consensus about four main endings for archetypal plots in any genre, i.e. those with one or more lead character with a defined story goal.

These four are: positive, negative, ambiguous/open and ironic endings.

For more on each, do have a look at James Scott Bell’s The Last Fifty Pages: the Art & Craft of Unforgettable Endings. I got it for a bargain £3.oo on Kindle. In Write your Novel from the Middle, Bell describes an alternative, holistic plotting method which unifies the ending with the start and middle, rounding out his advice in Plot & Structure. I thoroughly recommend all three books. Meanwhile…

A positive ending is one where the protagonist achieves their goal and is happy about it. This is a staple for romances, enlivened by the obstacles strewn in the way of the couple’s happily-ever-after.

For other genres, positive endings tend to be enriched by sacrifices made along the way, with their attendant psychological wounds, and/or crucial life lessons learned.

I think positive endings are very useful for children’s, teen and Young Adult fiction, since (in my worldview) hope for the future ought to be their birth-right. We can give our characters hell along the way, but…

A negative ending is one where the protagonist does NOT get what they want and is sad/angry/devastated about it. Or dead - and not in a nice, self-sacrificing way, either. Shakespeare was big on negative ending; see Hamlet, Macbeth etc. It’s the come-uppance, tragic pay off; a punishment for making an anti-social or immoral life choice. So probably not a great ending for Picture Books through to lower MG!

Ambiguous endings (did they or didn’t they damn well get what they wanted?) or, more kindly, open endings tend to be found at the more literary end of the spectrum, also in short stories.

Open endings leave it up to the reader to imagine life after the story, and wonder about the ramifications for the characters of its events. Personally, I love a good open ending, but I know they bug some readers, a minority of whom might well write you a rude Amazon review.

For young people’s fiction, I guess it’s a matter of degree: the more sophisticated the story (and the older the reader) the more nuance and uncertainty they can handle. But for me nuance is best handled through...

Irony

Irony is, imho, the richest hunting ground for original material for endings. I can’t comment on fiction for readers younger than 11 as I’ve not been in contact with those markets for years, but I reckon irony can work in any story aimed at 11 to 101 years-old readers.

If you read Kelly McCaughrain’s excellent ABBA post last week, you’ll have seen her favourite character arc (inspired by KM Weiland) which - to simplify for the sake of brevity - pits a protagonist’s desire against their subconscious or unknown need, culminating in the discovery of a truth which demonstrates that what they needed was, all along, more important than what they wanted. That’s a tried and trusted form of irony with lots of positive overtones. Here’s the link for more details:

https://awfullybigblogadventure.blogspot.com/2019/08/quick-character-quiz-kelly-mccaughrain.html

Irony is also the backbone of Shakespeare’s Othello, the Moorish warrior who learns he had what he wanted all along, a loyal wife in Desdemona, but only after he’s killed her in his unwarranted jealous rage.

There is deep irony in the title of Hilary Mantel’s Wolf Hall (spoiler alert), home of Jane Seymour who will supplant Anne Boleyn in King Henry VIII’s affections in the following book, leading to Anne’s execution. After 650 pages about Cromwell helping Henry to get what he wants (Anne), Wolf Hall are the last two words of this epic novel.

Other classic examples of irony include a protagonist who:

·       gets what they want, only to find it wasn’t worth the getting (a variant on the positive ending);

·       doesn’t get what they want, but is glad about it due their transformation wrought by the story’s events (riffing on the negative ending);

·       realises they’ve thrown away the very thing/person that could have made them happy (see Othello above); a variant of which is,

·       realising they’ve rejected the person who could have been their friend/ally/true love in favour of someone who isn’t.

·       Being destroyed by the person/thing they’ve set out to destroy is perhaps best left to YA horror and adult fiction.

·       Discovering a deeply-held belief is in fact a lie is probably one for mature readers as well.

·       Discovering an ally is an enemy and vice versa is a well-recognised ironic twist for just about any genre, if perhaps a tad clichéd.

Natch, there are more, but I won’t try to list them all.

For upbeat endings, negative ironic twists can also be used to set up the ending, e.g. after coming face-to-face with a cruel irony at the close of Act 2, the shock of finding out the truth precipitates the final Crisis decision and Climax in Act 3.

All of which might sound rather formulaic, but if irony worked for Shakespeare and Hilary Mantel…

For me, discovering a story’s ending - imagining it, reimagining it, sleeping on it, plotting it or weaving back and forth from it during an edit (thinking all the while about how it will resonate with a reader, and how it might resonate more) - is one of the hardest parts of the storyteller’s craft, but - ultimately - the most satisfying.

Next month I’ll look at another side of the process: the structure of endings and how that links with character arcs, including the interwoven roles of the Crisis decision, Climax action and the Resolution.

See you then, I hope!

@HouseRowena on Twitter

Rowena House Author on Facebook

Website: rowenahouse.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

My Favourite Villains by Claire Fayers

Following on from last month's post I am still pondering villains as I work on my new book. As I read around for inspiration, I thought it was time for another favourites list. This time, some of my favourite fictional villains, and what I've learned from them.

Satan

The villain who gave rise to all villains. 

Satan falling. (Gustave Dore)

Anyone who has read Paradise Lost will know that Satan gets all the best lines.

"All is not lost: the unconquerable will,

And study of revenge, immortal hate,

And courage never to submit or yield,

And what is else, not to be overcome."

At first glance, this could be the hero in his black moment. But look closely and you'll see revenge and hate hidden among the proclamations of courage. Satan's courage comes from his pride and his pride caused his downfall.

I will give my villain heroic qualities but twist these qualities so they feed into his villainy.

Count Fosco (The Woman in White by Wilkie Collins)

One of the greatest criminal masterminds of gothic fiction, Fosco is fiendishly clever, honourable in his own way and he possesses a charisma that even attracts the heroic Marian. In his final confession, he admits his adoration of Marian. Most of all, however, he adores himself. Right after confessing he would have committed murder if it had been necessary, he writes: "Is my conduct worthy of blame? Most emphatically no!"

This is a villain who truly believes himself to be a hero. He's in love with his own good qualities and believes himself incapable of any real vice.

My villain will be blind to her own faults.

Captain Hook (Peter Pan by J M Barrie)

Obviously I had to have a pirate in here. My own pirate villain, Marfak West, is still one of my own favourites.

What do I like best about Captain Hook? His evil laugh? His relentless pursuit of Peter Pan? No, the fact that he has lost a hand - a hand which was eaten by a crocodile which is still chasing him. 

It's a well-known fact of fairytales that the monster must have a single weak point. Captain Hook's is the crocodile.

I will give my villain a fatal flaw that will be his undoing.

Cruella De Vil (The Hundred and One Dalmations by Dodie Smith)

Some books on writing say you should give your villain some good quality to show their humanity. Have them save a kitten, for example. Cruela de Vil drowns kittens and wants to skin puppies to make a fur coat. That's how evil she is.

My villain will demonstrate her true character in how she treats people (and animals).

Matilda's Parents (Matilda, Roal Dahl)

I know Miss Trunchbull is supposed to be the villain, but honestly every time I hear 'Put that book down and watch TV,' I quiver. Matilda's parents are her parents. They're supposed to love her, take pride in who she is and help her develop her potential. Instead they want to squash her down until she's an ugly little copy of themselves. At least they have the decency to let her go at the end.

My villains will not always be the obvious one.

I think I have enough inspiration to start writing now. I'm looking forward to meeting my next villain.

Which fiction villains have inspired you?


Claire Fayers is the author of the Accidental Pirates series, Mirror Magic and Storm Hound. Website www.clairefayers.com Twitter @clairefayers

What the world of TV can learn from the world of books - or maybe not.

This blog was supposed to be about what the TV world could learn from the world of books, but it’s morphed into something else really.

I started to think about that question, and the one thing that really sprung to mind was the idea of respecting the story. One thing the book world does really well is that it respects the author and it respects the story. And when I say ‘respects the author’ I mean it respects the unique talent that the author can bring to the table. There are other issues with regards to payment and communication that belong in another blog, but when it comes to creative choices made about my words I feel I am asked and listened to before a change is made.

The same cannot always be said of the world of TV. As a TV writer I am part of a much larger creative process. When I write a book the creative input is usually limited to three or four people – my editor, my agent, my illustrator and myself. When I write a TV episode all that changes.

If I’m not the head writer on the show then I need to get my idea past them – they may have suggestions. Then there’s the producer, the executive producer and the broadcasters (of which there may be at least four). On a recent show I counted up the email chain and there were twenty five people cc’d from one broadcaster alone, if there are four broadcasters you can multiply that by four!

They all have a say on my story. I have to do a pitch and outline and at least three drafts before my story is signed off and they’ve all had a say.

You’d think that story would be fairly locked by the end of all that, but you’d be wrong. I’m just the first part of the process. It then goes to the voice talent and voice director who may want to play around with the lines a little. After that is goes to a storyboard artist who turns my words into a visual form through a storyboard and then an animatic. They may need to chop and change to make the story fit the creative visual choices they would like to make.

More often animated shows are being driven by storyboard artists. Their creative input is vital but can also fundamentally change the way a story is told. The Amazing World of Gumball is at the vanguard of this. I co-wrote the episode this clip comes from, but as you can see from the visual, really, who has had the final creative say here? Not me! But I love what they’ve done!

Then we go to the animators and director who bring it all together.

It might be 18 months before I see the finished result of a story I started with my words. It’ll say ‘written by’ front and centre, but sometimes – not often, but enough to notice – it won’t be much like the thing I wrote and I won’t have been contacted once in all that time to see if I agree with the choices made, but my name is there reagrdless.

I get paid much more to write a TV episode than I do to write a book, however my creative input feels much less when it comes to story. It seems strange to be paid for expertise, but then not to be called upon throughout in order for the show to benefit from that expertise. I understand why – time is money, there’s a schedule to hit and a production company is also paying lots of other people very well to make their creative choices too.

When I get asked what I prefer to write – TV or books – I answer that they each give me different things.  I have much more creative control over my books, but my mortgage doesn’t get paid. I have much less creative control over the TV shows I write, but I’m paid well enough to be able to write the books. Eventually... 

So it’s not a bugbear, and it’s not really what the world of TV could learn from books. It’s more that it’s nice to be respected in a world of words and sometimes I take that for granted. 

So you want to write, by Sophia Bennett

Back to school time.

I always love this time of year. The occasional smell of burning leaves, the autumn colours, the trip to WH Smith to fill up your pencil case with new rubbers and gel tip pens you probably won't use ...

Except, now I'm the teacher. I teach at St George's Hospital, where I'm the Royal Literary Fund Fellow. Funded by Winnie the Pooh, my job is to help medical students who haven't written an essay in years suddenly tackle a research proposal of 2,000 words, or a final year dissertation.

I also (because, as we all know, very very few writers these days can afford to write full-time, and also, it turns out, because I really love it) teach writing for children at City University. This is not 'writing' for-children-at-City (that would be weird), but 'writing for children' for adults who choose to attend a short 10-week course at City, because they think they have a children's book or two inside them, and they're not sure how to get it out.

I've done both for a while now, and while a medical dissertation and a gripping chapter book for seven year-olds may not seem to have a lot in common, here are a few tips I've learned that help if you are stuck, whatever kind of writing you are trying to do.

1. Don't try too hard to make your writing look 'difficult'. This is especially true of new students trying to impress their professor with their medical knowledge, by using as many long words, sentences and paragraphs as they can think of.
2. If in doubt, start on chapter two. Or section 2, if it's an essay. I suggest that at first, my medical students leave out that all-important introduction. It's a nightmare! I get them to try writing the bit they know well first, and go from there. They can go back to the introduction later, when they have a structure and know what they're introducing. And if it's a book, students may just find they don't need that missed-out Chapter 1 at all. You started with the action. Somehow you fitted in more of the backstory than you expected to, without going overboard with it. The reader is gripped. You just saved yourself a month of worry. You're welcome. 
   
3. Read your work aloud. 
4. Read your work aloud. 
5. Read your work aloud. 
6. READ YOUR WORK ALOUD! If they do only one thing, it should be this. Best of all, at City I ask them to get someone else to read it for them. (Not my idea - Keren David taught it to me.) Instantly, they hear what jars, what doesn't make sense, what takes too long, what's boring, what's really-quite-good-actually, what works. Medical students get so much from it too. They see where their argument has gone a bit flabby, and where they used words whose meaning they weren't entirely sure of (see point 1) and didn't entirely get away with it. 
7. Don't try to say too much at the beginning. Grip the reader. Let me know what direction I'm heading in. (See point 1 and point 2). I don't want detail yet. I want to trust you as a writer. Tell me what this is about. Let me hear your voice. Give me an intriguing image or two. Get me on your side. Then you can bamboozle me with facts and backstory.
8. Ah, voice. As Joan Lennon recently said on this blog, it's the thing that matters. I liken voice to the late Terry Wogan. (Not to the medical students who, bless them, would have no idea who I'm talking about. I am about 104.) Remember - do you remember? - when his dark honey voice reached you from the radio? He sounded so confident, so pleased about what he was going to tell you, and he was going to tell it to only you. It was as if he'd put his arm around your shoulder and was walking beside you. A great voice sounds incredibly easy, as if the writer simply couldn't do it any other way, and it is SO BLOOMIN' DIFFICULT. I struggle with it every single time. It takes me longer than anything. But without it, I might as well not bother because it's what makes the reader want to know my story. 
   
9. If a sentence can be short, great. 
10. Read. I know we all know this. All the best medical students I see have one thing in common: they read in their spare time, or they certainly used to until recently. Many of them didn't discover reading for pleasure until their teens, but then they read voraciously. They're embarrassed about doing it now ('It's only novels', 'It's only biographies', 'It's only things I like from magazines') because they think they have to be studying medicine 24/7, but simply by reading, they've absorbed by osmosis most of the things I have to tell their friends. And my City students delight me with how much reading they do between classes, on top of their regular jobs and looking after their families. They learn. They grow. You can see it in their writing. 
    
    
    
    
    
    Reading for pleasure is the most important thing. It's why I cling on to every school librarian, teacher and bookseller I meet. I know we all work so hard to keep libraries open and support our indie booksellers, because we know what a fabulous job they do - not only making our work available, but opening up the world of the imagination to a new generation. If you have ever encouraged a child or a young adult to find a book they love, you have my undying appreciation. Thank you! You're educating new writers more than I ever could. 

Sophia Bennett

www.sophiabennett.com

Blog - You read it here

Twitter - @sophiabennett

Facebook - SophiaBennettAuthor