The

Dance of Character and Plot

DiAnn Mills
Author’s Recent Books


The Survivor
The Chase
Attracted to Fire
Under a Desert Sky
Pursuit of Justice
Sworn to Protect
Breach of Trust
The Dance of Character and Plot

 DiAnn Mills




 Bold Vision Books
P. O. Box 2011
Friendswood, Texas 77549







© Copyright 2013 DiAnn Mills


Library of Congress Control Number: 2013937266
ISBN: 978-0-98-53563-7-8


All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a
retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic,
mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in
printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher. Requests for
information or permissions should be addressed to Bold Vision Books, PO Box
2011, Friendswood, Texas 77549
The Dance of Character and Plot

 DiAnn Mills

© Copyright 2013 DiAnn Mills

 Smashwords Edition

ISBN: 978-0-98-53563-7-8



 Dedication



Jerry B. Jenkins
 and
The Craftsman Students of the Christian Writers Guild



Table of Contents


Acknowledgements
Introduction
Definitions
Chapter 1 The Beauty of Dance
Chapter 2 First Steps
Chapter 3 Breathing Life Into Your Story
Chapter 4 Characters with Personality
Chapter 5 Deepening Characterization
Chapter 6 The Dynamics of Setting
Chapter 7 Plots That Dance, Part I
Chapter 8 Plots That Dance, Part II
Chapter 9 Point of View
Chapter 10 The Dynamics of Emotion
Chapter 11 Writing Dialogue that Sparkles, Part I
Chapter 12 Writing Dialogue that Sparkles, Part II
Chapter 13 Symbolism, Part I
Chapter 14 Symbolism, Part II
Chapter 15 Exposition, Narrative Summary, and Internal Dialogue
Chapter 16 The Rhythm of Pacing
Chapter 17 The Writer’s Voice
Chapter 18 Building Your Editing Muscles
Chapter 19 The Tango of the Writing Life
Resources
Character Sketch
Establishing Character Motivation
12 Tips for Writing Strong Character-Driven Dialogue
Four Essential Plot Questions
 Backstory
Knowing Your Story
Guidelines for Face to Face Critique Groups
Guidelines for Online Critique Groups
Suggested Readings
Suggested Websites
About the Author

Illustrations
Reasons For Rejection
Character and Role
Backstory
Character Tip
By Any Means
Preparation
Plotting Graph
Go Deep
Showing Feelings
Two Simple Rules
Action Narrative
Ask About Your Voice
Writer Termites







Acknowledgments
Lynette Eason
 Julie Garmon
Dr. Dennis E. Hensley
Dean Mills
 Andy Scheer


 Introduction
I feel a thousand voices whispering to me—authors who touched me with their
mastery of language and beauty; authors who taught me to imagine and dream;
authors who taught me to create my own stories; and authors who inspired me to
never settle for mediocrity. I’ve tried to pour their wisdom into these pages.
A voice in the back of my mind warns me about claiming any of their teachings
as my own. I’m probably guilty. I’ve memorized so much from them, their gems
have become a part of who I am. For their willingness to teach writers from the
ground up, I am thankful.
Some teachers of fiction believe the novel is all about plot—that out of plot
comes a character who has what it takes to reach a goal. Others, like me, have a
passion for character. We believe that plot emerges from a character with certain
wants, needs, strengths, weaknesses, and flaws.
For me, writing is an adventure, an exploration of what my character will do to
accomplish a goal. I want to know these characters as close friends, to laugh,
cry, and share the events of their lives.
From this philosophy blossoms The Dance of Character and Plot.
Let the dance begin.

 Definitions
Antagonist - The character in story who opposes the protagonist’s goals
and viewpoint.
Backstory - The POV character’s experiences that happened before
chapter one, line one, that formed the character’s personality and
motivation in the story.
Character - A fictional person in story who is unique, compelling, and has
physical and moral obstacles to overcome.
Character Arc - How a character changes and grows in the process of
achieving a goal or solving a problem.
Dance - In the context of fiction, dance is the twists and turns of plot as
the character endeavors to achieve a goal or solve a problem.
Doorway - The point in story where the protagonist chooses to step
through a threshold in which there is no turning back.
Emotive - Highly emotional; capable of producing intense feelings.
Emotive Conflict - The character’s emotions in conflict with what is
happening in the story.
Exposition - Those items in narrative that the author includes to reveal
information and description but does not move the story along.
Framing - Metaphorically to put a frame around a character, in which the
story happenings reveal who the character is; a device to show rather than
tell.
Internal Dialogue - The inner thoughts of a point of view character.
Motivation - That which propels a character into action.
Narrative summary - Summarization of what happened off-stage but is
vital information for the reader.
Pace - The writer’s ability to speed up action or slow it down to keep the
reader engaged in story according to genre.
Plot - The story line. It is what a writer’s story is about.
POV - Point of view refers to the character who is experiencing the scene
with sensory perception. Writers are instructed to write the scene in the
POV character who has the most to lose.
 Premise - The “why” a writer is creating story. What is the moral truth to
be explored?
Protagonist - The main character of a story who has a worthy goal.
Scene - The action portion of story, usually in dialogue, in which the POV
character strives to achieve a goal, experiences conflict, and concludes
with high stakes.
Sequel - The narrative portion following a scene with high stakes that
contains a character’s reaction, dilemma, and decision (to embark upon a
goal).
Setting - Where a story takes place. It includes the where and when to
introduce a psychological effect on the character.
Show don’t tell - Allowing the reader to take part in the story progression
with action instead of relaying what happened.
Style - The writer’s unique way of presenting story.
Subtexting - Refers to the technique used in dialogue when a character
says one thing but means something else.
Symbol - An item, usually tangible, that means something totally different
through the eyes of the character.
Symbolism - The use of an item, usually tangible, to represent a particular
meaning with emotive value.
Theme - The takeaway value of the story: how the story relates to the
reader’s life.
Villain - The character in story who opposes the protagonist; the bad guy
who will stop at nothing to stop the protagonist. Every villain is an
antagonist, but not every antagonist is a villain.
Voice - How a point of view character expresses herself in dialogue and
inner dialogue.

 Chapter 1 - The Beauty of Dance
To write is to feel the dance of your soul swirling in a dream that drips
imagination onto paper.
—DiAnn Mills

Rhythm, grace, and beauty describe a dance where two people move to music as
though they were one. With perfect fluid motion, they sway and whirl, bend and
lift—and we observe in awe. Simply by watching the couple express the joy of
their unique gift, we are entertained, inspired, and encouraged to be better
people.
Such is the art of writing a novel. The dance of character and plot blends unique
steps that carry the reader away. The choreography varies with the genre, mood,
and setting, as we will explore in the pages to come.
For the writer, this book will challenge you to reach your novel-writing goals, to
learn the art of fiction, and apply those principles to your writing project. As a
dancer must stretch before the music begins, the writer must stretch her mind to
embrace the techniques of a master storyteller.
Stretching requires determination.
Stretching requires practice and application.
Stretching requires scheduled time to study and write.
Stretching requires discipline and commitment.
Stretching requires writing when you don’t feel like it.
Stretching requires completing the exercises in these chapters.
Stretching means you are on your way to success.
I’ve chosen an easy-to-understand method, using simple format and language.
The stretching portion at the end of each chapter will help you apply new
techniques to your novel. Learning these fiction skills is not difficult. Neither is
the art a mystery, but it does take commitment to study and apply each chapter’s
information.
Our collaboration begins with this chapter and continues long after The Dance of
Character and Plot concludes. For the new writer, the contents will help
establish good habits—while adding new steps to your craft. For the seasoned
writer, the reminders will help you tighten your manuscript. Writing quality
fiction means a lifetime of learning and challenging ourselves. We must be
limber, flexible, and open to change—while deeply appreciating what makes
humans behave the way we do.
Professional Formatting
The basics of writing fiction begin by formatting our manuscript according to
publisher guidelines. Adhere to one inch top and bottom margins and paragraph
indents. Include a title page. Type the name of the manuscript and the contact
information on the upper left. On the bottom left, type “copyright,” the year, and
your name. Insert a page break from your tool bar. Double-space your work and
include a header, with your last name and the name of the writing project
(Mills/Dance of Character and Plot). Leave room for the automatic page
numbering. The header with the automatic page numbering begins on the second
page. Do not use a footer.
Double-space the text of your story. Use a readable font such as 12-point Times
New Roman or Courier. Fancy fonts and other deviations from publisher
guidelines signify an amateur. You are a professional!
Don’t depend solely on the submission guidelines posted by agents and
publishers. Keep an up-to-date market guide on your shelf, such as The Writer’s
Market, published by Writer’s Digest Books or The Christian Writer’s Market
Guide, compiled by Jerry B. Jenkins and published by Tyndale. Market guides
provide many opportunities to sell your work, connect with writers’ groups,
locate an agent, discover writers conferences, and even enter contests.
A tip: Before submitting a proposal or manuscript, email the literary agency or
publishing house to ensure the agent or acquisition editor still holds that
position. Verify the email address and the spelling of that person’s name. Let’s
give agents and editors the respect they deserve.
Overcoming Your Excuses
A word about excuses. Sometimes it’s hard to get started. We want to write, but
we fear the hard work, so we keep thinking and talking about it—telling
ourselves someday we’ll write that novel.
Here are some common excuses for not writing. If one fits you, begin to stretch
now to make amends.
Time
Establishing time to write takes discipline. Too often our schedules are like
yappy dogs at our heels. Writing may mean getting up earlier. My alarm rings at
4:30 a.m. Yes, it’s early, but it’s also very quiet then. Your peak creative hours
may come after everyone is in bed. Many writers have day jobs that include a
lunch break. Brown-bag your meal and write. Motivation and a passion to
communicate lead to scheduled writing time. As it’s often been said, composing
one page a day equals a book in one year.
Organization
Some of us are organized and others are challenged. If you struggle with this
disorder, I’m sure you have a friend (opposites attract) who would love to help
you get beyond the clutter. Treat her to lunch or offer to dedicate your first book
to her.
Tools
A writer doesn’t need the latest Mac or PC. Many published writers began
writing on a computer at their local library. Harriet Beecher Stowe wrote Uncle
Tom’s Cabin by firelight after she put her seven children to bed. I don’t think she
had an iPad. I wrote my first book in the second grade on a Big Chief pad with a
#2 pencil. And an editor pored over this manuscript using a $300 netbook and a
free, open source word-processing program.
Fear
Psychologists say fear of failure and fear of success rank the same on the stress
scale. It can be scary to admit you’re a writer. Enroll in a creative writing class,
or submit your manuscript for publication. Tough it up. Write through the tears
and conquer the shaky fingers.

Rejection
Rejection letters are redirection letters, nothing to be ashamed of. They are
declining your material, not rejecting you. Usually you’ll receive only a
computer-generated letter. But if you’re lucky, an agent or editor will take time
to explain why the manuscript didn’t fit their needs. Take encouragement from
that personal attention. And keep submitting.
Writing is not for the weak hearted. It’s a contact sport. Writers must be strong
to finish the dance.
Maintain professionalism by reading current titles in the genre you want to write.
Highlight passages that leap from the page. Study the authors you admire and
respect. Read the bestsellers and dissect why the novel reached this status.
Besides reading Writer’s Digest each month, study how-to books and apply the
principles to your work.
How are you holding up? Take a deep breath. Look how far you’ve come in the
first chapter. The exercises in the next section, our stretching sessions, will help
you apply what you’ve learned. When you are tempted to skip the exercises,
remember when you stop stretching, your muscles stiffen. So stretch—and get
ready for a dance that will never let you go!
Stretching
Tell yourself every morning that you are a writer.
Craft a mission statement. Include your passion for writing and your
reason for penning a novel. Review it often.
Make a list of your writing goals.
Prepare a schedule for your writing.
Stick to it.
Write something every day.
Get organized.
 Chapter 2 - First Steps
To dance is to reach for a word that doesn’t exist,
To sing the heart song of a thousand generations,
To feel the meaning of a moment in time.
—Beth Jones

Story ideas can be like fireworks. They soar and explode in beautiful colors…
then their dance fizzles to the ground and we turn our attention to the next one.
But story ideas don’t have to fade away. A writer can take those wild moments
of inspiration and build a credible, colorful, creative, and compelling story.
Where do story ideas come from? Everywhere! As Buzz Lightyear says, to
infinity and beyond.
Pieces of a conversation…juicy tidbits that move us to explore story
and character An article in the news that grasps our attention
Books we’ve read—fiction or nonfiction
Music—including lyrics
Poetry
Nature—with all of its beauty and danger
A movie you’d have written differently
The behavior of family or friends
Historic events about people and places
Genealogy
Personal experiences
 Dreams
Let’s consider the topic of dreams. While some writers keep a journal of theirs,
I’m not that systematic. But I’ve learned not to discount my dream world, which
knows no time or place, where the impossible is probable. Deep within our
subconscious activity lies this realm where plot problems find answers, character
situations resolve, and new characters are born.
I remember a Christmas Eve dream when I was three. I’d gotten up to get a drink
of orange juice. (My parents kept a small glass for me in the fridge.) I drank the
juice and started back to bed, but first I wanted to peek out a window to see if
Santa was close. And there he was! Riding across the sky! I hurried back to bed
so Santa wouldn’t skip my house. A dream? Maybe…but the next morning the
glass was empty.
A few years ago, I dreamed about a mother with her two children exiting a mall
during a downpour. She had her children sit on a bench beneath a covered
pavilion while she hurried after the car. When she pulled around to pick up the
children, they were gone. That became the story line for Footsteps.
I know you have a story idea. It’s banging against your head and heart, keeping
you awake at night. You’re not sure what to do with all the information, and you
fear you may lose it. So let’s turn your burning thoughts into a book project.
Ready? Are your fingers poised on your keyboard? Our exercises will take a
little time but are so worth the effort.
Step One
Write your story idea in one sentence. Don’t concern yourself with character
names, setting, and genre. That part will come in the following chapters.
A few examples:
1. A young mother confesses to her police officer husband that not
only is she addicted to drugs, but she also deals them.
2. A businessman discovers the owner of his company is smuggling
assault rifles into the country.
3. A newly married couple is left behind on a wagon train when the
husband is suspected of carrying a terrible disease.
4. A young woman travels west to marry a man she’s never met—
only to discover he doesn’t exist.
5. A diagnosis of Alzheimer’s means a middle-aged woman must
become the caretaker for her mother, with whom she already has a
strained relationship.
6. A couple is wakened by thieves in their home. While the
husband attempts to overpower the intruders, the wife is killed.
7. During wartime, a prince is forced to take the throne for his
ailing father. Then the prince learns he’s not the real heir, but the
son of the warring king.
8. The people of a planet wracked by pollution face extinction.
Their only solution is to exterminate half of the population.
Take a deep breath and congratulate yourself. You’ve given your story life.
Now perfect your one-sentence storyline. Tweak it until you’re satisfied. Do you
envision your protagonist(s) and antagonist(s)?
Some definitions may help:
Protagonist: The character who has a worthy goal to achieve or a problem to
solve. Your champion, the character can be a hero or a heroine. A story with a
romantic thread may have more than one protagonist.
Antagonist: Anyone or anything that stands in the way of the protagonist
achieving her goal or solving her problem.
Villain A character who will commit any deed to achieve a selfish goal. Every
villain is an antagonist, but not every antagonist is a villain.
Step Two
Take your one-sentence idea and write at least one paragraph about your story.
Extend the idea to include what you know about your characters and the
storyline. (Close your eyes while you write this.) Don’t worry about grammar
and punctuation. Simply envision the story. When you’re finished, save and edit
your paragraph(s).
Step Three
What is your story’s genre? Consider the list below and find a home for your
idea.
1. Contemporary
2. Historical
3. Romance
4. Suspense/Thriller
5. Mystery
6. Western
7. Women’s Fiction
8. Speculative (includes science fiction, fantasy, allegory, etc.) 9.
Young Adult
Story ideas often mix genres with romance, such as:
Contemporary Romance
Historical Romance
 Romantic Suspense
By including a thread of romance, writers increase their readership. It’s been
said that 80 percent of book buyers are women. Half of them buy romance. Do
the math and consider adding a spark of love to your project.
Step Four
Where is your story set? Writers often view their story’s setting as a character,
sometimes as an antagonist. This helps build tension and conflict into your story.
(We’ll discuss antagonistic settings in chapter six.) By determining a time and
place, you can establish the culture, vocabulary, and values of your characters.
Step Five
Establish your story’s cast. List only those needed to carry your story idea to
completion. (Limit the cast to twelve or less.) Give your characters names, but
understand these may change once you dive into characterization.
On the left side of your screen, list each character’s name. To the right, list the
roles they play. Give characters multiple roles. Muddying the waters this way
adds to the tension and conflict, building a complex story that resembles life.
Your cast will look something like this:

Step Six
What do you want readers to learn from your story? Sometimes called takeaway
value, this is your story’s premise.
Dr. Stanley Williams has written an excellent book, The Moral Premise, about
shaping this aspect. Williams opens the writer’s mind to establishing the story’s
message throughout every scene.
A writer must have a reason to compose a story, a passion that carries through in
everything the characters say, think, and do. The power of the premise lies in the
characters’ motivation to see their goal to the finish.
Take a deep breath. You’ve just completed the basics to writing your novel.
Look at what you’ve accomplished and check off each item.
Stretching
Write a one-sentence story concept.
Write a paragraph (or more) about your story idea.
Establish your genre.
Establish a setting.
Establish a cast of characters and roles.
Establish the takeaway value/premise.
 Chapter 3 - Breathing Life into Your Story
Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.
—William Wordsworth

A dancer feels the movements, and her performance comes to life. She’s
passionate about her interpretation.
Think about the most memorable novel you’ve read. Did the story keep you
awake long into the night as you clung to every word? What made the book grab
you—and not let you go?
It was the characters.
A reader might not remember the plot, but those characters will live forever in
her heart and mind.
Some writers believe plot trumps character. Others claim character is key. In my
experience, characterization out dances any plot…but an outstanding plot will
enhance characterization. So I suggest allowing character and plot to dance
together, allowing each to complement the other.
Will you stick with a novel with weak characterization? One with a bad plot?
What makes a novel stand out is the treatment of characters, and what makes the
characters shine is the plot.
When we become immersed in a novel, we close the doors on the outside world
until our beloved character solves her problem. We stay with the story because
the writer breathed life into the pages by developing unforgettable characters.
I’d like to help you offer your readers the same satisfaction, for them to
experience every step of your novel’s journey through the eyes of a compelling
character. And to leave them craving more.
Growing a Friendship
Consider your best friend. How long have you known her? I’d venture to say the
process has taken years. Because writers don’t have decades to detail one
character, we need a way to speed the process. Your friend likely didn’t burden
you with her flaws at first. Instead she convinced you by words and actions that
she’d be a great friend. The flaws came much later. By then you were invested in
the friendship—and chose to overlook flaws because you cared. You became her
cheerleader.
Backstory is the compass point to learning about your character. The crucial
events and circumstances that motivate your character into spellbinding action
become your goldmine.

Handled well, backstory can be fresh, thrilling, and confidential. And for writers,
as we learn a character’s history, we find it easier to predict how they will act
within the pages of our story.
People are four-part creatures who deal with the physical, spiritual, emotional,
and mental realms. Our characters have the same challenges, and their backstory
shows how and why they are motivated—to dance your novel’s tango.
A character’s responses may seem concocted—unless you have established
through backstory why they behave as they do. The justification behind these
reactions and relationships is best revealed through tiny nuggets seeded
throughout the story.
Backstory is your heroine’s nightmare about the man who stalked
her five years ago.
Backstory is your hero’s nightmare about how he drove recklessly
and paralyzed his best friend.
Backstory is your villain’s nightmare about how his mother abused
him, and now he preys on any woman with bleached blonde hair.
Backstory is your heroine’s cherished memory about her
grandmother who encouraged her to sketch. Today she’s a fashion
designer.
Backstory is your hero’s fond memory about his dad receiving a
medal for bravery. Now an adult, he’s a police officer.
Backstory is the villain’s memory of the dog that listened to his
cries when he was a little boy left alone by his mother.
Inside Their Heads
A writer cannot plunge protagonists and antagonists into action unless deep
psychological needs are clear, and powerful, unresolved goals—both external
and internal—are established.
How can you discover what these characters want and need, as well as their
strengths and weaknesses? I’ve had great success using focused interview
questions and personality tests.
A psychology book can offer substantial help to not only understand human
development, but also to guide a character’s behavior according to assigned
traits. As a writer, you take the gathered information and observe the character
reacting to the events of the story, guiding unpredictable yet realistic behavior.
By discovering information about a character from every angle, you can create a
picture of the character’s life—physically and mentally—before the first
sentence.
Believable character motivation is driven by emotion. A writer discovers why a
character behaves a particular way by analyzing her backstory. This also helps
you unveil her body language and internal dialogue. Is your character willing to
make substantial sacrifices to reach her goal? Does she have mixed motives?
Does she fight the truth behind her motives? You’ll learn the answers in her
backstory.
If she refuses to act, what are the consequences? A true hero or heroine always
initiates action. He or she is never the victim, and the reasons lie in backstory.
They may have been a victim in the past, but they vowed to never find
themselves in that position again.
Robert McKee defines backstory best: “previous significant events in the lives of
the character that the writer can reveal at critical moments to create turning
points.” In chapter seven, we’ll discuss where backstory fits into plotting your
story.
Inventory the character’s childhood, then write about the experiences that
formed her personality for the present story.
In her book The Power of Body Language, Tanya Reiman lists seven universal
emotions: Surprise
Fear
Anger
Sadness
Disgust
Happiness
 Contempt
POV characters need to experience all these. Ask the hard questions your
characters might not want to discuss. Force them to expose inner hurts and pain.
In the depths of their forbidden and unchallenged world, you’ll unearth the gems
of temperament—and discover the power of motivation.
Perhaps your plotting and your story’s opening lines will take a different twist.
You never know where backstory may take you.
Stretching
(Inspired by Writing the Breakout Novel Workbook by Donald Maass) Consider
who your protagonist is today:
What events in her life up to age twelve affected who she is on
chapter one, line one.
What events in her life from age thirteen to twenty affected who she
is today?
What events in her life from age twenty-one to thirty affected her
life?
Now consider recent events in your protagonist’s life:
What happened to her one year before the story opens?
What happened to her six months before the story opens?
What happened to her six weeks before the story opens?
What happened to her twenty-four hours before the story opens?
What happened to her one hour before the story opens?
What happened to her ten minutes before the story opens?
More Stretching
Complete each of the above exercises for your protagonist.
Complete each of them for your antagonist.
Now that you’ve answered those questions, how do you feel about your
story?
Has the opening or plot changed? How?

 Chapter 4 - Characters with Personality Character cannot be
developed in ease and quiet. Only through experience of trial and suffering can
the soul be strengthened, ambition inspired, and success achieved.
—Helen Keller

A dancer gives a spectacular performance, but only after years of sacrifice and
sore muscles.
Now that you’ve established your backstory, you’ll add another step by defining
your characters. They evolve from a variety of places, then are shoved into a plot
where they’ll morph into even better characters.
We find our story’s people in our friends and relatives, in dreams, in actors, in
other books, in newsworthy persons, and from the eccentric creations in our
mind. Drop them into a mixing bowl and flip the switch. The resulting blend sets
the stage for a feverish dance of character and plot.
Every internal and external trait builds on the character’s emotional being, which
means everything about the character has the potential to influence motivation.
If a little girl has big ears and her mother insists she wear short hair, will the girl
have confidence in her appearance? As an adult, how will those old tapes affect
her as she repeatedly hears childhood taunts?
If a boy grows up without nurturing, how does he respond to potential
relationships?
If a man raised in the heart of New York City is transferred to work on the Gulf
in Louisiana, how will he adapt?
Ask Your Character Questions
You’ve begun to form an image of who your character is and what motivates
her. It’s time to use an online method of personality testing. I prefer Myers-
Briggs (see http://humanmetrics.com). Through a list of yes and no questions,
the test not only describes a distinct personality for your character, but it also
gives vital information regarding habits and careers. It even lists famous people,
real and fictitious, with the same personality. Once complete, the personality
assessment will help you direct your character’s behavior.
Personality assessments and psychology books do a great job of helping you
understand your viewpoint character. But the more your write about her, the
more of her character you reveal. Bland characters do not survive in the
competitive world of publishing. Ours must be bigger than life—while living in
a believable environment.
We learn characterization by doing. The stretching portion of this chapter will
take you a little longer to complete, but your reward will be deeper insight into
your character.
Stretching
What is your character’s name? Give her a name that reflects her
role in the story. Other considerations are the story’s genre, setting,
and time period. Unusual spellings and pronunciations can confuse
the reader, unless the distinction affects the storyline or
characterization. I’ll name our character Susan. Of Hebrew origin, it
means “lily.”
What is Susan’s age and birth date? Maturity is often a factor in
stories. As we grow older, our values and opinions change,
hopefully for the better.
Does Susan have a nickname? What if her family call her Susie, but
she despises it? How does her nickname affect her behavior?
Birth order may indicate how a character views life, relates to
others, and solves problems. What is Susan’s birth order?
Who are her siblings and how did she relate to them growing up? As
an adult?
What is Susan’s personality type?
What is Susan’s height and weight? How does she feel about those
markers?
What is Susan’s body build? What is her analysis of her body?
What is Susan’s racial or ethnic group? How does that affect her
life?
What are the size and shape of Susan’s mouth, nose, and ears?
What color are Susan’s eyes? Do they have a distinct shape?
What about the length and style of Susan’s hair? Is she pleased with
the look?
How is Susan’s health? Is she plagued with any medical conditions?
Does Susan use distinguishing gestures or mannerisms?
Where did Susan receive her education? How much education does
she have? How does she feel about this area of her life?
What is Susan’s occupation and income? Is she satisfied with her
lifestyle?
Does Susan have a hobby or special skill? What is it? How much
time does she devote to this pastime?
 Does Susan have a favorite food or restaurant?
Is food important to Susan?
Does Susan own a pet? What kind?
Does Susan have any religious affiliation? What kind? If so, how
important is faith to her?
Is Susan experiencing spiritual turmoil?
What is Susan’s speaking style?
Does Susan have a sense of humor?
How does Susan approach friendships?
Does Susan have a best friend? Close friends?
How does Susan feel about her family? How does her family view
her?
What is Susan’s social status? Does it matter to her? Does she want
to change that aspect?
Who does Susan admire? Why?
These questions will enable you to know your character. Her answers will help
you create someone well-rounded and believable, yet capable of surprising the
reader. Every characteristic has the potential to affect the character’s
psychological development.

More Stretching
These questions will help you establish credible motivation by understanding
Susan’s emotions.
1. What makes Susan angry? How does she display her anger?
2. What is Susan’s most painful experience? Elaborate.
3. What are Susan’s political and social views? Is she radical?
4. What are Susan’s fears? Mental or emotional problems?
Describe.
5. What scenarios embarrass Susan?
6. What does Susan appreciate about life?
7. What does Susan despise about life? What would she do to
change those things?
8. Who would Susan like to be? Why?
9. What have you learned about Susan? List three to five main
strengths, weaknesses, wants, and needs.
10. What is Susan’s external problem? Does she know how it could
be solved?
11. What is Susan’s main inner problem? Does she know how it
could be solved?
12. What is Susan’s goal? What would she do—or not do—to
achieve it?
Take a deep breath. Now review your answers. Are they consistent? Do you like
this character? If she is a villain, do you understand how and why she makes bad
decisions?
Don’t stop now! Continue to spend time with your character. Ask questions—
and wait for answers. Next we’ll go a step deeper and discuss more of the
psychological aspects of character.

 Chapter 5 - Deepening Characterization
Heart is what drives us and determines our fate. That is what I need for my
characters in my books: a passionate heart. I need mavericks, dissidents,
adventurers, outsiders, and rebels, who ask questions, bend the rules, and take
risks.
—Isabel Allende

Two dancers fall. One gets up and tries again. The second hobbles off. A dancer
who believes in her art knows that a fall means she is a step closer to success.
We just discussed the foundation for developing memorable characters. We
learned how interview questions can help us assign physical attributes and
explore basic motivation. Now we’ll dive deeper into the inner landscape of
characterization and increase our understanding of the psychological workings
that fuel motivation—and how to surprise readers with behavior that’s in
character.
Learning the inner qualities of characterization takes time. Personality testing
establishes if a person is an introvert or an extrovert. Introverts tend to do better
reading others’ emotions. Extroverts are easier to read.
Out of character comes plot, which means the writer determines those qualities
that motivate a character to act. She has a problem to solve or a goal to achieve,
and the story begins. By posing critical questions to a character, you as the writer
can discover dark secrets, hidden ambitions, fears, dreams, hopes, and desires.
The answers reveal what topics to include in the plot—those the character
desperately wants to avoid. By being forced to attempt what she fears, the
character changes and grows.
Sometimes a character changes for the worse, especially an antagonist.
Sometimes a character doesn’t change, especially in a series where the
character’s behavior works for the story line. James Bond has all the skills
needed to overcome the bad guys. Indiana Jones possesses what’s needed, no
matter the situation.
The psychology of a character allows a story to progress, because the writer
must keep raising the stakes, either physical or internal. And readers become
involved in the character’s life and care what happens.
Essential Needs
All people are created with three distinct needs:
Relationships
Significance
 Security

According to the Bible, these needs were designed to be filled by an intimate
relationship with God. But thanks to Adam and Eve and their taste for fruit, we
were pitched out of the garden. Stubbornly, we try to find our own way.
Understanding our character’s weaknesses avoids marionette characters who
simply arrive on a scene and await someone to pull their strings.
Your character also has unmet needs vital to her well-being. Even if legitimate,
the motivation to satisfy them may result in poor choices.
A need to survive
Is your character—or someone she loves—threatened? Is she driven
by obtaining food, clothing, or shelter?
A need to feel financially secure
What will your character do to pay the bills?
A need to feel emotionally safe
Does your character have unresolved issues that drive her behavior?
A need for intimacy
Does a need for friendships and sexual relationships cause your
character to take foolish risks? How far will she go to feel accepted?
A need for significance
What will your character do to feel important? Are her self-esteem,
competence, and independence threatened?
A need to fulfill goals
Will your character be tempted to make poor choices when her
goals seem too difficult to achieve?
 A need for an identity
Will your character be assertive to live up to her uniqueness? Will
she make mistakes that cost her everything?
Determining if your character makes decisions independently or as a member of
a group will also help you identify those areas of her life that are in good order—
and those that need strengthening. Independent behavior can be noble, if a
character takes a stand for a worthwhile cause. But if the results are self-serving,
an independent stand can be selfish. Likewise an action based on the good of the
group can be admirable, as when members of a business team cooperate. But in
the context of a dysfunctional group, poor decisions can follow, as when a gang
leader convinces members that a wrong is right.
Writers who form a complex character and environment can create unpredictable
behavior—responses that are true to a personality but not foreseen. Many heroes
and heroines are not aware of their admirable qualities until they are forced into
an intense situation.
Every character in a novel is dealing with a disruption, crisis, or problem that
forces her out of her comfort zone. A strong, well-developed character realizes
her past coping mechanisms can no longer handle the situation. New skills are
needed. To succeed, she has no choice but to accept the difficult task.
As your novel progresses, the character may not realize the slip in her dance
step. But by the end of the book, she will not only realize her error, but will also
have made major strides to improve her quality of life. Your responsibility as the
writer is to determine if the character has the courage, determination, and
openness to accept the challenge.
Nancy Kress in Dynamic Characters suggests a four-part dynamic for creating
convincing character change

Character is developed through adversity, which gives your protagonist hope
that life is worth living and worth living to the fullest. In turn your reader finds
hope in her own circumstances—and is encouraged to make needed changes.
A further reality of writing fiction: if you do not see a transformation in your
own life as you write, then you have failed. If you cannot see the premise of your
story fulfilled, how can you expect a character and a reader to step forward with
new optimism?
Stretching
Does your character see herself as an independent thinker—or does her
identity come from a group?
Does your character view her goals as an expression of self—or does she
rely on the group?
What matters to your character: her self-expression or her responsibilities
to a group?
When your character is challenged, does she seek to make changes—or
look to a group for solutions?
Does your character define her own morals or does she look to a group’s
values?
Does your character have many relationships or few? Why?
Does your character gauge her behavior by her unique personality or the
guidelines of a group?

 Chapter 6 - The Dynamics of Setting
Remember in your story that setting is the other character. It is as important to
your story as the people in it because it gives them context and can ideally be
used to heighten drama and tension, depending on where it is.
—Rob Parnel

No matter where a dancer performs, the setting is as much a part of her gift to
the audience as her leaps.
In this chapter we’ll dive into the depths of setting and its importance to story.
Too often writers ignore setting or give it a minor role—instead of exploring the
power of where a scene takes place. Establishing a unique setting takes skill. But
once mastered, it gives your story a new dimension.
Usually setting is physical, but it can be mental as in a dream world, an
unconscious state, or hallucinations. Whatever the location, setting can keep
your characters—and the plot—moving in directions that aren’t always obvious
to the reader. When a surprise occurs in setting, it should be seamless. The
character’s response to an unexpected change in her environment keeps the
reader turning pages.
Research forms the core of a setting’s credibility. How far will you go to ensure
your story is factual? What will you do so your manuscript can soar with
authenticity? Are you ready to step outside the boundaries of your comfort zone?
This often means traveling to the setting and exploring where your character
experienced life. Only when a writer is prepared to conduct research beyond the
minimum will readers find reason to applaud.
We’ve briefly talked about using setting as an antagonist, which increases the
stress, tension, and conflict on the protagonist striving to achieve a goal. To
ensure a tight, high-stakes scene, use the character’s fears and weaknesses
against her. This forces the character not only to struggle, but also to face an
inner and outer antagonist: fear and setting.
What aspect of setting tips the scales toward the antagonist? Outline those
characteristics of an unexpected force rising against the protagonist—and watch
plot twists emerge that can take the story deeper.
Setting has its own characterization sketch. Establish the time, date, season, and
the culture where your story takes place. You can reveal aspects of the settings
in characterization, plot, dialogue, and narration—and use it to evoke symbolism
and emotion. Treat setting as something vital and full of spirit. The more real
you can make the setting, the more muscle you add to your story, because it
forces your character to respond.
Make sure the setting works against the protagonist. The adversity can be
obvious or hidden, but include ways that pressure your character into making
tough decisions, then accepting responsibility for them. Always challenge your
character to leave her comfort zone.
As an example of an antagonistic setting, consider a protagonist who has a
beautiful garden surrounded by a ten-foot stone fence. The garden is her source
of tranquility, and she spends hours in the garden. But one day a villain follows
and traps her inside. Her peaceful domain becomes her torture chamber.
Why make life easy for your protagonist? Seek ways to ensure she changes and
grows throughout the novel by facing one difficult situation after another.
A wise writer shows enough setting for the reader to envision the story world—
and no more. Information overload cheats the reader. If you reveal too much, the
reader will skip the description and move on to the action—at the risk of missing
an important detail. Allow your reader to experience the same thrill as your
character feels as she journeys through the setting.
A character who lives in the setting will not make the same observations as one
who is a visitor. The seasoned character will respond differently than a novice.
For example, a veteran police officer understands the challenges of her job better
than a rookie, who is either nervous or overconfident.
Research
Accurate research focuses on sensory perception. Consider not only what a
character would see and hear, but also what she would taste, smell, touch, and
intuitively sense. During a research visit, take lots of notes and photos. Bring
along a recorder for interviews with people who live there.
In your note-taking, consider the seven universal emotions (see chapter three).
Use active verbs and strong nouns to show how your character’s qualities can
give your story additional depth.
What you see in your research takes many different facets. Seeing physically
means recording all those details that impress you about the setting—yet
knowing only one or two items will be all you’ll need. But sight is not limited to
the physical realm. Consider what’s in your mind’s eye. A writer’s imagination
weaves what she sees with how she will use the information.
For a historical story, imagine the details of yesterday and blend them with what
you see today to paint a word picture of the setting and its people.
Logic is another part of viewing the setting. Will the information you gather
build realism? What have you discovered that brings a fresh touch to your story?
Have you looked, really looked, at the people you interview? What does their
body language reveal as they speak about special moments? Painful moments?
People remember events according to their own sensory experience. These
memories can add a personal touch or help you sort out truth and logic.
What do you hear when you conduct your research? Some years ago, my son
and I visited Gettysburg. We were so moved, we thought we heard the cries of
the soldiers. Listen to the sounds of nature. Tune your ear to the dialect of those
you interview. Understand the culture, the unique vocabulary, the subtleties, the
laughter, and tears.
A great way to communicate local flavor is by evoking the sense of taste.
Whether you are in the States or halfway around the world, depicting food and
drink brings a richness to your writing. Ever watch a travel show? By showing a
restaurant, a food vendor, or a meal in someone’s home, you can offer insight
into that culture.
Dig into the traditions and customs for the setting’s smell, whether offensive or
enjoyable. As you step into that other world, you’ll find sensory ways to draw
readers into the world of your story.
This means brushing your finger across the vegetation, dipping your feet into the
water, petting an animal, or embracing someone different. Experience the
surroundings. Pick up a baby or hold a hand. Laugh. Cry. Ask questions. Touch
pulls us into someone else’s world. This may be difficult, but it always brings a
reward.
Ideally to receive the total sensory spectrum, a writer should visit her story’s
setting. But that is not always possible. If you use a real place, be sensitive to
those living in the community. Research cities, streets, and businesses or use
fictitious names to avoid offending residents.
Libraries hold a wealth of information. Websites offer much, but make sure your
online research is verified in at least three places before putting it in print. Pick
up the phone and call the area. The chamber of commerce often has more
information on a subject than any website. Churches, diners, museums, libraries,
newspapers, and historical societies are rich sources of information.
True research into your story’s setting means investing to benefit others. Your
readers deserve to experience the adventure of your writing. Ensure your
manuscript includes sufficient depth of detail to touch hearts and lives.
Setting and Genre
Each genre uses setting to give the plot definition. The genre’s specific traits
provide a means to expand premise, theme, character growth, and symbolism.
Consider these scenarios:
Romance
When a tropical storm threatens the safety of young lovers, a Caribbean island
that once looked idyllic—with sun-kissed days on white-sand beaches and nights
filled with the perfume of exotic flowers—turns into a nightmare.
Fantasy
In a kingdom far away a benevolent monarch is deposed by a tyrant who places
a heavy burden on his subjects.
Historical
Breathtaking mountain peaks become deadly after a wagon train attempts to
cross them too late in the year. Then the lure of owning property in the west is
countered as a cattle baron threatens new settlers.
Science-Fiction
An isolated, peaceful planet is invaded by aliens who require the inhabitant’s life
source.
Contemporary
A rural community known for its charm and family appeal is hit by a mile-wide
tornado.
Suspense
A pleasant city known for its many churches is plagued by a series of
unexplained bombings.
No matter your genre, take time to brainstorm your story world. Use your
imagination. Study the settings of your favorite writers to see how they make
them pivotal to their stories. Then list ways your setting can be exceptional.
I hope your mind is spinning with possibilities of how to make setting play an
active role in your story—and provide an exciting stage for your characters.
We may be able to visit the settings for fantasy, science fiction, and some
historical fiction only through the portals of our minds, forcing us to rely on
other forms than hands-on research. Below you’ll find ways to help make your
setting come alive.
Stretching
Visit the area’s chamber of commerce.
Conduct a web search of the area. Some apps will help you with
this: Google Maps, Google Earth, Weather Bug, or travel sites that
can be found via apps or websites.
Take or download more pictures than you think you’ll ever use.
Interview people living in the area. For a historical setting, this also
means reading diaries and journals. How has history affected the
community?
Listen to how local people talk. Do they use a distinct vocabulary?
Ask questions about your setting:
What are the community’s values and expectations for life and each
other?
What is their diet? How much of their food supply is local?
How is the area governed?
What are the local hotels? Restaurants? What’s featured on the
menus? Any daily specials?
What are the sources of entertainment?
How do the people celebrate holidays?
Does the community have special festivals?
How does the area experience the seasons, and what are average
temperatures?
What are the medical concerns? What kind of medical care is
available?
In what kinds of homes do the people live?
Where do the people shop?
How do the people dress?
Do the arts play a vital role in the community?
How do the people view education, sports teams, and favorite
colleges?
How do the people earn a living?
Other Considerations
If the area is near a national or state park, look for research material
in the visitors section.
Discover the wildlife and birds of the region.
Locate a map of the area.
Visit the local library. View newspaper archives.
Look for documentaries on the area.
More Stretching
List your character’s fears and weaknesses. Now incorporate them into
setting. Compose several paragraphs in which your setting acts against the
character and forces her to deal with those shortcomings.
Do you include scenes where you place your character in unfamiliar
territory? If not, how can you add or revise setting to raise the stakes for
your character?

 Chapter 7 - Plots That Dance, Part I Once you have invented a
character with three dimensions and a voice, you begin to realize that some of
the things you’d like him to do to further your plot are things that such a person
wouldn’t or couldn’t do.
—Thomas Perry

We all want our novels to dance. Our characters are authentic, fascinating, and
irresistible. We’re researched our setting so thoroughly, we know the area inch
by inch. But if our novel lacks a substantial plot, our story will never receive an
invitation to join the dance of a publisher’s list of new releases. In this chapter
we’ll begin to explore effective plotting.
Our plot is the story idea. How will a character reach her goal—and change
along the way? Will that story dance with readers?
The first line of your novel plunges the reader into your story world. I like what
Donald Newlove says in Painted Paragraphs about the hook sentence. “It is
about the white-hot opening whose glow speaks for a story’s greatest strength:
its spirit.”
The hook is an emotional invitation. The writer issues a subtle promise that
every word will be as powerful as the opening line. And she spends hours
honoring her commitment. Take a few minutes to read the hooks of some of
your favorite novels. How did the hook raise a question that caused you to
continue reading?
Superb novels require two essentials: strong characterization and an exceptional
plot. They go hand in hand, an organic cultivating of suspense as a highly
developed character accepts the story’s challenge.
Some writers claim to outline their entire novel before beginning the
story.
Some writers claim to fly by the fingers of creativity.
Some writers believe novels are plot-driven.
Some writers believe story is all about character.
Some writers use a mix of what works best for them.
You’ve probably figured where I stand on those issues. No matter what
philosophy you choose, a few facts inspire all writers. Motivation draws
characters into facing their opposition by expertly weaving stress, tension, and
conflict into every scene. Your protagonist strives to achieve an impossible goal.
Stumbling blocks escalate, and the antagonist appears to be winning. All seems
lost for the protagonist, but in the process she has undergone a dramatic
transformation. The final battle, then victory! (Yet a few series heroes, like
Indiana Jones and James Bond, seldom change. They simply use their skills to
solve problems.) Antagonists ultimately face the consequences of their actions,
possibly growing worse in the process. No wonder readers keep turning pages.
Remember our character Susan? Let’s toss her into an uncomfortable setting and
see what happens.
Stress
Susan checked her lipstick one more time before exiting her car. A cacophony
blared from inside the town hall, electric guitars and drums that reminded her of
a war dance. Actually it was. She could do this. Spend the night listening to
music and watching him, her favorite dancer. Across the parking lot a local TV
station crew carried in equipment.
She shoved a twenty inside her jeans pocket along with her car key and hurried
inside. The town hall nearly burst with people, laughter rising above the music.
Scary. Her stomach churned at the thought of someone speaking to her. But she
managed to slip into a corner…and wait.
That, my friend, is stress. Note that Susan is attending the dance alone. The idea
of seeing her dance idol is enough to make her leave her comfort zone.
Tension
A hush fell over the crowd, and those in the middle of the dance floor squeezed
back. He’d arrived. Now he would select a partner from the adoring women
vying for his attention. Susan couldn’t see him, but his choice of a partner wasn’t
why she’d come. Simply watching him dance would fulfill her dreams.
The crowd parted, and he strode toward Susan. She sensed the blood drain from
her face. A camera man followed, filming his every move.
“I choose you,” he whispered, and took her hand.
“But I can’t dance.” Regret seared her stomach.
“That’s what they all say.” His smile set her quivering. He pulled her to the
dance floor. The crowd cheered, a deafening roar in Susan’s ears.
She tried to escape, but he held her hand with a powerful grip.
A heavy dose of tension. Susan’s emotions are taking a beating. How can she
save herself?
Conflict
The lights flash on in a whoosh. The lead singer calls out a beat. The TV camera
focuses on her, and the lights are blinding.
“I don’t know how to dance.” Surely he’d understand and stop this madness.
He draws her into his arms. The music begins. Her knees shake. The dancer
smiles. “Don’t make me look bad.”
Three steps into the music, and Susan tramples his toes. She mumbles an
apology. The idea of stumbling over his feet for the entire song makes her ill.
He scowls. “You’ll pay for this.”
Susan tries to twist from his hold. “I told you I couldn’t dance.”
He tightens his grip.
“No one threatens me,” she says. “I’m calling security.”
And the conflict…well, you decide.
Conflict results from characters struggling to achieve their wants and needs. It
involves inner and outer battles, and your book must have both. Susan wrestled
with shyness while attempting to communicate that she didn’t know how to
dance. Desire ruled her actions and thoughts.
Combine desires with strengths, values, and flaws—and the writer has complex
characters who react and initiate the story’s conflict. How these characters try to
resolve strife reveals who they are. We had no idea that Susan practiced
maintaining healthy boundaries until the dancer burst into her personal space.
The element of surprise showed that she would not take his threats lightly.
In everyday life, we try to avoid conflict. It’s frustrating, it interferes with our
plans, and it complicates life. But we must have it in our stories.
Conflict can be:
with another person
with nature
physical
mental
 spiritual
In a novel, the conflict must be so compelling, the reader notes the stakes—and a
high risk of failure. Force your readers to engage with the character’s emotions
—drive her car into a raging tornado or down an icy mountain slope. Shock her.
Terrify her. Make her laugh and cry. Give her a time limit with heart-wrenching
consequences, and stack the odds against her. Reward her victory, then plunge
her into another conflict that shows that reaching the goal is inconceivable. Draw
out every possible emotion.
Inner conflict needs to be equally strong. The issues can be mental, emotional, or
spiritual. Often these are problems the characters don’t want others to know
about or deny their existence. These psychological issues are critical in the black
moment.
Inner conflict reveals your character’s motivation. In a romance, a hero’s goal
may be to win a particular girl. His outer conflict is that he can’t ask her out
because she has a boyfriend. But his inner conflict may be a terrible fear of
rejection because his parents are highly critical.
Every page of the story must have some type of stress that leads to conflict; the
reaction and response must contain strong emotions. (We will explore the power
of explosive emotive conflict in chapter ten.) Your character has been thrust into
a difficult situation, and the story is about her reaching deep inside to overcome
the obstacles aligned against her.
Scenes and Sequels
Story is made up of scenes and sequels. Sometimes this is referred to as
action/reaction or cause/effect. Scenes are the action spots, usually containing
dialogue.
These questions, given to me by a copy editor at Tyndale House Publishers, are
essential to writing tight scenes.
1. What is the POV character’s goal or problem?
2. What does the POV character learn that she didn’t know before?
3. What backstory is revealed? (Refrain from inserting backstory in
the first fifty pages other than a phrase or a teaser that raises
curiosity.) 4. How are the stakes raised for the POV character?
Every scene has a viewpoint character stepping into action with a goal, a
conflict, and a disaster. A disaster doesn’t have to be earth-shattering, but
something that stops the character from achieving her goal and raises the stakes.
Scene is written in short, fast-paced sentences. This is also a crucial spot to
deepen characterization by showing how the character faces adversity.
One’s character deepens when faced with challenges. We learn to trust—or not
to trust—a situation according to the protagonist’s responses. Everything she
does to improve her situation actually makes things worse.
A sequel is the POV character’s internal response to what just happened,
commonly called exposition or narrative summary. This is also called the
reaction or effect portion.
The sequel is the “catch your breath” moment. It allows the viewpoint character
to work through what just happened. In today’s novels, this may be merely a
single line or phrase of inner dialogue. It’s a pondering of her dilemma, making
a decision, and going forward with a new plan or goal. The dilemma and
decision portion may even be assumed, and the character simply chooses to
move forward. Often there are two or three scenes before a sequel.
New writers often make the mistake of overwriting sequel. Keep this section
clear and concise, with emotion that equals the intensity of the scene.
When tempted to overwrite, consider where your eyes go on the written page.
Do you tend to skip over slow, lengthy paragraphs and move your eyes ahead to
the white space—dialogue, where the action happens?
Do we want our readers to be skippers? Or do we want them not to miss a single
word?
Susan, a police officer, races down the expressway after a suspect. She increases
her speed. The perp weaves in and out of traffic, and Susan continues her
pursuit. Her squad car swerves out of control. She is powerless to stop the skid,
and her car crashes into an embankment.
The writer has given Susan a goal, a conflict, and a disaster. The sequel to this
scene would not be: I should have picked up my dry cleaning.
I forgot to complete yesterday’s paperwork.
Did I remember to put on deodorant this morning?
Absolutely not! The sequel would most likely be: Susan screamed and slammed
on the brakes. In that short sentence, she experienced a reaction, a dilemma, and
a decision.
In the next chapter we’ll explore the ingredients for an irresistible beginning, a
gripping middle, and a dramatic ending. Until then, keep practicing those dance
steps!
Stretching
1 .What is your protagonist’s goal in the story?
2. What is your antagonist’s goal?
3. Write an opening hook. Does it pose a question or arouse
curiosity?
4. Write your story’s first scene by using the plot questions.
Remember the four questions for each scene:
1. What is the POV character’s goal or problem?
2. What does the POV character learn that she didn’t know before?
3. What backstory is revealed?
4. How are the stakes raised?

 Chapter 8 - Plots That Dance, Part II
Plot is no more than footprints left in the snow after your characters have run by
on their way to incredible destinations.
—Ray Bradbury

A choreographer blends steps, motion, and form into an emotionally unified
interpretation that flows with music. The art of writing novels also combines
intricate techniques that raise and diminish action and blend it with emotion.
In the previous chapter, we considered how careful plotting is crucial. We
discussed the importance of a strong hook, various kinds of conflict, and scene
construction.
Now we’ll focus on what goes into your novel’s beginning, middle, and ending.
This is not formulaic writing, but a guide to writing a novel filled with tension
and conflict in just the right places.
So how does the writer know what constitutes her novel’s beginning, middle,
and ending? Read on.
Beginning
The first approximately one quarter of your novel is the most crucial. In it you
must form a sympathetic bond between the protagonist and the reader, introduce
other characters, and unfold plot—while building conflict and suspense. Too
much exposition and a reader loses interest.
These elements will help you build a strong beginning.
A strong hook that draws the reader into the story. Open in the
middle of action. This taste of the conflict to come promises that the
four-hundred-page dance will be filled with adventure.
A unique, sympathetic character who endears the reader to the story.
A story disturbance. This is not the story problem, but a frustrating
intrusion into the protagonist’s life. How the character responds
creates a bond with the reader, who becomes the character’s
cheerleader.
Strong characterization of the viewpoint protagonist—and
antagonist. These characters must come alive. And the antagonist
must be better equipped to succeed than the protagonist.
A problem to solve. This can be something to achieve or overcome.
Stress, tension, and conflict that lead to suspense. A writer
establishes these essentials by continuously placing trouble in the
character’s path. One way to initiate action is through dialogue in
which the characters are at odds. We’ll examine this technique in
chapters eleven and twelve.
Also:
Establish the novel’s genre: contemporary, historical, romance,
suspense, fantasy, science fiction, thriller, western, young adult, or
any of the other genre. Romance is often paired with other genres.
Plan the setting, ensuring it is vital to your plot.
After encountering these elements in the first quarter of your story,
your protagonist decides to go after the goal. She steps through the
first doorway into the plot with a firm resolve to do everything
within her power to succeed, including adding to her arsenal of
resources.
Middle
Here is where a story can weaken and fall apart. In our dance of character and
plot, sometimes the storyline drags. But this doesn’t happen if we carefully plot
this section and include subplots with exciting twists and turns.
Consider your character’s traits and the current problem. List the worst possible
scenarios. Make a what-if list for all the viewpoint characters. Be creative.
You’ll discard some of the ideas—and use others to create an intricate plot.
Study the character’s psychological traits. Your best scenes will happen when a
character behaves the opposite of what the reader expects. But your reader will
accept those unexpected actions because you’ve demonstrated the character is
not predictable. Suspenseful conflict is achieved with scenes that cast doubt on
the protagonist achieving her goal. The antagonist always has a bigger dance
team and better choreographers. And she’s willing to do anything to stop the
protagonist.
Heightened tension keeps the reader turning pages. Give the reader a moment to
take a gasp of air, then drop her back into the action.
Every plot idea you can muster has already been written. Multiple times. From
the ancient storytellers who gathered around the campfire, to Greek and Roman
mythology, to the richness of the Celts, to the many ways story is offered today.
Every culture has personalization. Take a look at the many TV series introduced
each season. Within the first preview, you can recognize a basic plot Dr. Dennis
E. Hensley of Taylor University offers examples of the nine basic plots:
Character vs. character
Cowboys vs. Indians
Yankees vs. Rebels
Cattlemen vs. sheepherders
Character vs. himself/herself
Silent Snow, Secret Snow by Conrad Aiken
High Noon (staring Gary Cooper)
Character vs. God (or the gods)
Job—Old Testament
Character vs. the machine (technology)
2001: A Space Odyssey by Arthur C. Clark
John Henry vs. the steam drill
Character vs. society/culture
The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald
 Downton Abbey
Character vs. the unknown
D.O.A. (starring Dennis Quaid and Meg Ryan)
Character vs. setting/environment
Earthquake
Armageddon
The Day After
 Twister
Character vs. situation/circumstance
The Poseidon Adventure
 Towering Inferno
Character vs. fate/destiny
 Oedipus Rex
Don’t put a bombproof shield around your character. Let her face the
consequences of her actions—no matter how disastrous. Pit her against
insurmountable odds, descending into an abyss where we’d never venture.
Why were we drawn to Indiana Jones and his adventures? The writer used
Indy’s fear of snakes to add to his likability. And his rugged good looks caused
women to envy the actress opposite him—and men to wish they could
accomplish his feats. We were glued to our seats. As it should be.
Subplots
Take advantage of the middle as an opportunity to include subplots.
Problems involving minor characters who have valid issues
Something about a viewpoint character that is separate from the
main story idea These subplots add tension and conflict as they
weave another level into your story. The mini story lines force more
turmoil into your viewpoint character’s life, ushering in emotions
that can rip her raw. But she deals with these difficulties and moves
on.
The wrap-up to subplots occurs when the main story climaxes and a resolution is
established. Will your character reach her goal? Can she be successful when the
antagonist is making sure the odds are against her? Keep the reader guessing.
While using surprise and unpredictability, don’t deceive your readers.
Understand the varying degrees of point of view. (More on this in chapter nine.)
If Susan is going to freak out when a dog follows her around the block, you must
already have given the reader some hint of her fear and its cause. Use a
sprinkling of foreshadowing and backstory to make it believable.
Complications
I suggest you throw a huge, heavy wrench into the middle of your story. What
can happen that will seriously affect the plot and the characters’ lives? This
could be: new information
unexpected complications
eliminating a character
 changing the setting
A “whoa, I didn’t see that coming” scene foils readers who think they can read
the beginning of a novel then skip to the climax and resolution. A damage-
inducing plot twist provides reader satisfaction, which ripples to more readers
for your next novel…and the next.
Sol Stein suggests raising the stakes by giving characters opposing scripts. In
other words, two characters have different agendas. They enter a scene with their
own goals in mind—and miscommunication sizzles. Try this and watch the
sparks fly.
Building Credibility
The writer’s mission is to make the seemingly impossible occur in such a way
that’s believable. The Spider-Man movie offers an example of how an incredible
comic book hero can be made to look realistic by establishing him as a
sympathetic character. He has real problems, inner and outer, that produce
incredible conflict. An ordinary young man is bitten by a radioactive spider. The
spider bite gives him the ability to accomplish heroic feats. But what about his
inner problem: the girl next door? We stay with him from beginning to end.
Do you remember Star Wars? How many of us have walked into an airport and
thought how the people resembled the characters in the cantina scene? That’s
conflict in the making!
Choices and Doubts
The middle is also where the protagonist realizes her struggle to reach her goal is
taking a lot of work. Doubts set in. Have you ever given up? Decided a goal
wasn’t worth the trouble? Considered quitting? Maybe we gave up for a while.
We want our characters to mirror our emotions, and we want them to overcome
their fears to succeed.
Consider the choices confronting your character. Have her choose between two
rights. Which one? Why?
Looking for still more conflict? Force your character to choose between two
wrongs. Imagine the guilt, the responsibility, the consequences, and the
circumstances surrounding her dilemma. Make her life messy, with the storyline
and characters believable, but also bigger than life.
Chapter hooks, especially through the middle, are as vital to your story as the
hook at the beginning. End each scene with high stakes, an outer or inner
struggle that spins with emotion. You’ll keep the reader up all night turning page
after page to discover what happens next.
Other Techniques
Flashbacks can be tricky, and I suggest avoiding them. But if your story cannot
be told without one, transition in, construct the flashback scene filled with
action, and quickly transition out. Stay in deep point of view (see chapter nine)
and limit use of “had.” Introduce the transition with the past tense “had,” then
refrain from using it for the remainder of the flashback.
In his book Fiction Attack! James Scott Bell recommends avoiding flashbacks
for the first fifty pages. My opinion? I’d rather gain ten pounds than deliberate if
a flashback is critical to my story.
Another plotting technique you may consider is a façade story. According to
Donald Maass, a façade story presents as true certain information that’s later
revealed as false. For instance a character believes something and projects that to
the reader, who has no reason to doubt because the reader trusts the character. As
the story builds through one suspenseful scene after another, the character learns
she’s been deceived. The new information ushers an unexpected dimension into
the resolution.
The movie High Crimes uses this technique. A man is arrested for murdering
innocent people while serving in the military. His wife, a lawyer, believes him
and risks her life to prove his innocence. But after he’s exonerated, she discovers
her husband is guilty. The movies Sixth Sense and Secondhand Lions are also
façade stories.
Caught in the Crucible
Sol Stein suggests using the “crucible” as a means to drive the plot forward. He
defines it as an environment, either mental or physical, that bonds people
together. The crucible is greater than their desires, and neither is willing to give
it up.
As an example, Stein cites Moby Dick. Neither Captain Ahab nor the whale will
give up the sea.
Consider a married couple with two children who have drifted from their
relationship. Both husband and wife have a significant other. Yet neither one
wants a divorce because of the crucible—their children. Or consider the situation
in a lifeboat. Which passenger wants to give up her seat?
Resolution
The latter portion of the middle is where the climax occurs. A torch ignites the
inevitable. It’s catastrophe time. Whatever has been crucial to the protagonist
has been destroyed. The real character—the inner landscape character—must
solve the insurmountable problem.
In a sense, the protagonist is naked. All she has to help her is what she’s learned
on the journey. Every possible emotion must play before the reader through
action—spine-tingling, heart-wrenching action. The dance of character and plot
spins out of control.
The resolution serves as the reader’s moment to relax and appreciate the
protagonist’s ability to beat the overwhelming odds. All significant loose ends
must be tied—including solving the secondary characters’ problems. Still, there
are times when minor occurrences or unadjusted personality traits are left to the
reader’s imagination.
Craft an ending that will satisfy. Avoid a jolt of the unexpected and
unbelievable. The reader has committed to a dance, and the writer can’t leave
her standing alone at the end of the song.
This plotting graph will help you see where to place the beginning, middle, and
ending items of your story.


Stretching
Examine your novel’s beginning. Have you established the necessary
criteria by the first doorway?
In the middle, what event changes everything? How does this affect the
character reaching her goal?
Consider the resolution. Does this last section fit the character’s goal and
the story’s theme? Have you tied up all the loose ends? Did you choose to
leave something for the reader’s imagination?
Write a scene with these elements:
A man and a woman have been dating for over a year. She is certain he
will propose this Saturday night, during their dinner date at an exclusive
restaurant. He loves the woman, but he’s not ready to propose. On Friday
morning, he is invited to go hunting for the weekend. He makes
arrangements to meet her for lunch. She thinks he can’t wait to propose,
but he wants to convince her he should go hunting.
 Chapter 9 - Point of View
You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of
view.
—Harper Lee

The lead dancer takes center stage. All the others complement what she’s doing
and may even exit for her spotlight. There’s no doubt who the audience is
supposed to watch. Point of view is as easy as picking out the star dancer.
“Whose head are we in?”
“Which character sees and internalizes every aspect of the scene?”
Have you ever been asked these questions? Critique partners, agents, editors, and
readers demand to know—from the first sentence—the scene’s viewpoint
character. This character is the one experiencing the scene, and we want the
reader to vicariously live the adventure with her. Our character cannot read
others’ minds, she can only assume from what is said, from evaluating past
information, or by guessing from body language.
A writer scratches her head and studies the proposed story’s characters, conflict,
and plot. How do you choose POV? Are there guidelines?
The viewpoint does matter. It affects the scene, with its potential tension and
conflict, and ultimately the story.
In the planning state, a writer has two aspects of POV to determine:
What type of POV?
How many POV characters are needed for the story?
Let’s take a few moments to discuss first, third, and omniscient POV. I don’t
recommend second person, in which the writer invites the reader to be the “you.”
This POV can be accusing and turn the reader away from the story. While
second person may work for a few nonfiction projects, it tends to fall flat in
fiction.
First-person POV
Everything is told from the narrator’s viewpoint of “I.” The advantage is
intimacy. It’s easy to believe what the character says, thinks, does, and
experiences—similar to a friend telling you about an event. Or like reading a
diary.
First-person POV is frequently used in literary and mainstream novels but also in
detective stories. To the reader, the writer takes on a dual role of character and
author, thus increasing emotion right from the beginning. The reader cares.
The disadvantage comes from interjecting the writer’s thoughts and feelings
instead of using the character’s traits. Another problem is describing the
character without sounding self-centered. A third problem is perspective. The
first-person narrator may have unreliable information. Will the reader feel
cheated or deceived when her treasured character is proven wrong?
A writer can use a single first-person POV or multiples. If using multiples,
identify the viewpoint character’s name before the scene or chapter begins.
As with all other POVs, with first-person you’ll use only one character’s
viewpoint per scene so the reader stays engaged and not confused.
Third person POV
In third-person, you’ll use “he,” “she,” or the character’s name.
First-person: I hurried to my car before the rain soaked me.
Third-person: She hurried to her car before the rain soaked her.
First-person: “Please, just one more chance?” I needed this job to
survive.
Third-person: “Please, just one more chance?” She needed the job to
survive.
Third-person is the most popular among writers. Multiple third-person POVs
gives the writer a variety of perspectives from which to show the story. When
using multiples, identify the character in the first sentence of each new scene or
chapter.
Omniscient POV
Omniscient point of view means the writer can inhabit several characters’ heads
at the same time. But this makes it difficult for the reader to form a bond with a
single character. The story may appear distant and confusing, and the reader may
not understand why. Omniscient viewpoint leaves little room for the reader to
find a wisp of mystery. This was a common technique in classic literature, but
today’s readers prefer to be part of the adventure by experiencing a single
character, one scene at a time.
Point of View Levels
Varying degrees of point of view allow you to set the amount of psychic distance
between the reader and the character. According to the goal of the scene and the
character’s temperament and role in the story, you can choose in third-person to
write distant, close, or deep point of view. Powerful scenes emerge from deep
point of view, but I’ve also read terrifying scenes from a distant viewpoint.
Deep point of view allows the reader to easily step into the viewpoint character’s
shoes, experiencing every action and reaction through the character’s senses.
What appeals to you more: a movie on TV or a 3-D experience? This is what
deep point of view accomplishes. But not every movie is best viewed in 3-D.
Examine your point of view characters to see if they’re a candidate for deep
point of view.
If you wish to master this technique, search for areas in your manuscript where
the character sees, hears, tastes, smells, or touches—and rewrite the passage so
the character experiences the action. Key words to avoid are realized, wondered,
scanned. Often telling prepositional phrases can toss the reader out of the
character’s head.

Deep point of view helps you to show rather than tell, but the technique is more
about creating a close bond between the character and reader. The internal
dialogue, emotions, and body language must come from the character’s heart
and mind, providing the reader with an intimate experience.
Choosing POV
In selecting POV you must establish what characters are needed to accomplish
the novel’s theme and purpose. In the chapters on plotting, we discussed the
need for the main character to achieve a goal or solve a problem. The fewer the
viewpoint characters, the tighter and more focused the story. Every time a reader
has to change POVs, a shift occurs and she must make an adjustment.
So how many POV shifts are needed to show your story, while still keeping your
reader engaged? A tough decision!
In Writing the Breakout Novel, Donald Maass suggests listing the characters
needed to show your story. Limit the list to less than twelve. Beside each
character’s name, assign the role she will play. Study your list. Where can a
character play more than one role? Can she play three?
Giving a character more than one role muddies the waters—making life difficult
for the protagonist and sometimes the antagonist. The higher the stakes, the more
a character will risk to reach her goal.
Multiple viewpoints can add depth to your story. Think about a huge family
celebration. What dynamics have the potential to ruin the event? You want to
invite Uncle Jake and Aunt Sally, but he picks fights with anyone who disagrees
with his obnoxious declarations about other family members, politics, religion,
and a list of topics. Aunt Sally attempts to calm him, but it’s useless. Their
children are bullies and always in trouble. Still, Aunt Sally is a sweet lady, you
don’t often see her, and her health is failing. That’s life—and your story.
How do you choose the best character viewpoint for the scene? Ask two
questions: Who has the most to lose in the scene (highest stakes)?
What role will this character play at the climax?
Sometimes a story calls for an unreliable POV. This could be a character who is
biased, possibly a liar, mentally or emotionally unstable, or someone simply too
close to a situation. This can be effective in a story where miscommunication
fuels the conflict, such as a romance or a suspense novel that portrays a villain’s
POV. An unreliable character acts according to the truth as she sees it.
Remember if you choose an unreliable protagonist, your reader has to connect
with her early on and care—at the cost of being deceived.
Challenges arise in choosing to place POV with problematic characters. If you
give the perspective of a child, make sure the language reflects the age and
culture, as well as the child’s emotional, mental, spiritual, and physical
attributes. Other challenges come with: A character who is hearing impaired.
 A character who is speech impaired.
A character who has lived in seclusion.
POV determines your novel’s language, setting, and atmosphere. That character
is the focus of your reader’s attention, so for the full dramatic effect, you need to
keep her on stage. Keep the scenes tight and full of suspense, but make sure
she’s dancing long enough for readers to understand the goal, conflict, and high
stakes.
Go ahead. Select the perfect viewpoint(s) for your novel.
Stretching
Write a scene based on one of these scenarios. Choose the point of view from the
character who has the most to lose.
The setting is a bank where a robbery is about to take place.
Character A is the robber. He’s lost his job and is about to have his
home and his car repossessed. There’s no food in the house, and his
wife plans to leave tonight with their two children if he doesn’t
bring the cash to buy groceries.
Character B is a police officer. His entire life is wrapped up in his
career. A month ago, he was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer. He’s
determined to leave his family a heroic legacy.
Character C is a bank teller. She’s a single mother with two small
children and doesn’t receive child support. Recently she was
reprimanded for the number of errors in her drawer. If it doesn’t
balance today, she’ll lose her job.
Character D is a contractor. He has to make a deposit before noon or
he’ll bounce several thousand dollars from employees’ paychecks.
An alcoholic, he needs a drink badly. He’s nervous, irritable, and
fearful of losing everything. A week ago he learned his only son
was killed in Afghanistan.
There is no right or wrong answer. Just choose the best viewpoint character for
your story line.
Point of view changes everything about your story.

 Chapter 10 - The Dynamics of Emotion He liked to observe emotions;
they were like red lanterns strung along the dark unknown of another’s
personality, marking vulnerable points.
—Ayn Rand

The lure of dance lies in the passion of the performance. Caught up in the
excitement, we forget the outside world. Our hearts are swept away in a flurry of
unexplainable, captivating feelings. Emotion…the soul of any art.
Passionate involvement is why writers write—and readers turn pages.
Along our journey, I’ve emphasized creating conflicting emotions. In this
chapter, we’ll discuss how you can master this technique. You’ll learn how
incorporating powerful feelings can make the difference between rejection and
acceptance.
Do you ever wonder how to fill every page, paragraph, line, and word with the
same mojo your favorite author uses? Writers look for the magical ingredients to
craft a page-turning, energetic, bring-me-more novel. Our goal is to carry our
readers firmly into our story world.
Whether you’re an aspiring new writer or a veteran, this chapter will help you
add suspense through emotion.
Fixing Flats
A few years ago, I attended a Donald Maass workshop on writing powerful
emotions. At a low point in my career, I wanted to get out of the game, but my
stubbornness wouldn’t let me. My manuscript was flat, and I couldn’t figure out
how to fix it.
Maass’s teachings and his book The Fire in Fiction changed the way I create
story. I learned how to feel my character’s actions and reactions—and why
readers value the passion of emotion. Since that epiphany, I’ve earned numerous
awards. Pick up Maass’ book and absorb every word.
Readers are passionate about experiencing story through the eyes of the
character. They want to live each moment: the good, the bad, and the terrifying.
Communicating characters’ feelings adds an emotional charge to any novel. That
requires not simply filling the pages with the character’s emotions, but
communicating the feelings of characters in conflict: “I love you, but I hate you.
Seeing you with another woman proved how much you don’t care.”
“I’m depressed because I’ve been fired. But I’m glad I don’t work
for that jerk anymore.”
“I want to move to the country, but I don’t want to leave my
friends.”
“I want to join the Marines and defend my country, but I’m afraid of
getting hurt.”
Get the picture? Characters dealing with conflicting emotions sparks our readers’
attention.
While on vacation in the Big Bend area of West Texas, my husband and I stayed
at a lovely but remote resort. Because of the distance to the next town, the
employees lived in staff housing. I met a beautiful Korean girl who had
contracted to work there for a year—and had two weeks before she could return
home. We talked about missing family, friends, home…and at the same time we
said, “And Starbucks.” Although from different parts of the world, we each were
strongly drawn there.
Getting to Know You
Writing explosive emotions begins with knowing our characters. This means
concentrated work to establishing the character’s: temperament
wants
needs
goals
strengths
 weaknesses
It’s impossible to write how a character feels unless you grasp her personality.
Whatever your method of characterization, it’s most important to knowing your
character’s psychological makeup. Use whatever method works best for you to
understand what drives your character into action.
Making Connection
Readers and characters connect when the character experiences honest feelings
and the reader responds with her own.
“Oh, I like you.”
“Your heartbreak makes me cry.”
“I’d be angry too.”
“You can do it!”
I recently spoke with a friend who hadn’t slept the previous night. At three in the
morning, she decided to pray for everyone in her life. After several minutes, she
realized she was praying for the characters in one of my novels. What a huge
compliment! She’d become emotionally attached to my characters!
Additional Hooks
It’s not enough to include a strong hook in your novel’s first sentence—or even
the first sentence of each chapter. Also include a hook in the last line of each
scene. This creates a need for the reader to continue. The hook can take the form
of an unanswered question or an unresolved action. Exceptional hooks create
emotive conflict within the point of view character—and the reader.
“You don’t know her secret,” Win said to me. (Long Lost by Harlan
Coben) A moment before the encounter, a strange expectancy
overcame Grady Adams, a sense that he and Merlin were not
alone.” (Breathless by Dean Koontz) When I wake up, the other
side of the bed is cold.” (Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins) We
had been wandering for so long I forgot what it was like to live
within walls or sleep through the night. (The Dovekeepers by Alice
Hoffman) I, Guinevere, Celtic Princess of Rheged and only child of
King Leodegrance, woke to a clatter of activity in the stableyard.
(Child of the Northern Springs by Persia Woolley) None of us needs
to be writing a story about which we don’t feel passion. If we’re not
excited about the characters and their problems, how can we expect
a reader to stay with them for four hundred pages?
The emotion in a scene must match the story’s tension and conflict. If there’s too
much, the scene is overdone. If too little, the scene falls flat. The bigger the
action that prompted the reaction, the more intense the response. Writers use the
what-if technique to brainstorm the worst thing that could happen to their
character. This means the character must endure heart-wrenching emotions.
Using Your Pain
To write a successful novel, we must confront our own feelings. Our mission is
to transfer gut-reactions into the lives of characters. This requires getting in
touch with our feelings, past and present. Writers who refuse to identify their
own responses to life can’t effectively write emotive conflict. If we deny our
own pain, how can we convey the pain of our characters? Readers can spot
counterfeits.
This exercise, from Writing the Breakout Novel Workbook by Donald Maass, is
one of my favorites because it takes the writer into the memory and emotions
that underlie behavior. Take the exercise seriously and it will deepen character
motivation—and make the scene worthy of publication.
What is your most painful experience?
Jot down a few specifics: setting, date, sensory perception, and those who were
present.
Place your character into the same situation, using all the emotions you
identified in your own painful moment.
I presented this challenge at a writer’s workshop, and one woman claimed she
couldn’t record her most painful experience. Too difficult. I suggested she
complete the exercise when she returned home. Eighteen months later, at a
conference awards banquet, a publishing house presented that writer with her
first book contract. Afterward as I worked my way through the crowd, she called
my name. She was crying. She said she’d accepted my challenge and
incorporated her most painful experience into the life of her character in the
opening chapter. The editor told her that after reading that scene, she had to
publish the book.
Be willing to write honest emotions. Imagine your character standing before a
firing squad. But the shooters are firing one at a time—and the character is
allowed to duck. Sometimes she’s wounded and sometimes she successfully
dodges the bullet, but each time she learns another strategy until she eludes the
final shooter. This illustrates not only how emotive conflict should dance
through your novel, but it also provides insight into your theme and premise.
When you write with emotion, you invite your reader to be part of the story.
James Scott Bell in Revisions and Self-Editing for Publication says this: “To
show character emotion in such instances, look to action, metaphors, and
dialogue.”
This means the story spins away from the telling zone and solidly into showing.
Spectrum of Symbolism
Various symbolism techniques also effect emotion, especially color.
Red is a warm color that engages strong feelings, from warm and comforting to
angry and hostile. Experts claim red can stimulate the appetite. What color is
your kitchen? How do these phrases affect you: redneck, red-hot, red-handed,
paint the town red, or seeing red?
Blue prompts a range of psychological responses from calmness to serenity.
Studies show workers in offices painted blue are more productive. Blue can help
a dieter keep her weight in check. But blue can also mean sadness. Anyone enjoy
the blues? Blue Monday? When was the last time you had a blue ribbon day?
Green, which symbolizes nature and growth, has a calming effect. Have you
ever taken a green plant to an invalid? It’s been shown that people who work in
offices painted green have fewer stomach aches. Green can also signify wealth,
greed, or jealousy. In the fifteenth century, when green represented fertility,
wedding gowns were green. Think about that the next time you select a green
M&M. How do these phrases affect you: green thumb, green with envy,
greenhorn?
Yellow is often described as cheery and warm, but it can also be a color of
frustration. More tempers are lost in yellow rooms, and babies in yellow rooms
tend to cry more. The color can also stimulate the appetite. What about the
coward who’s called yellow? Or a yellow traffic light? Do you want to be known
as Miss Sunshine?
Purple is the color of royalty, wealth, wisdom, and spirituality. It can also mean
arrogance, magic, or mystery. Experts find that children like purple, a mixture of
red (passion) and blue (calmness). How does your character feel about purple?
Brown invokes a down to earth feeling. Farmer Brown and Farmer Green were
neighbors. But for a person who feels isolated on a farm, brown can symbolize
sadness.
Pink is a romance color: loving, feminine, calming, and soothing. Many book
covers for romance novels contain a shade of pink. Consider the phrase “in the
pink” or the color of Pepto Bismol.
Orange, a mixture of red and yellow, means excitement and enthusiasm. It’s also
associated with autumn, the end of the growing season and the entrance into
winter.
White signifies purity and innocence. It can also represent spaciousness or
sterility. How can you include white to create emotion in your character?
Black can mean evil, power, death, and mourning. In the fashion world, it’s used
to create a slimming effect, even sophistication. Consider these phrases: Black
Death, blackout, black cat, black list, black market, black tie, black belt.
Gray, a blend of black and white, often symbolizes life and death. A gray sky
can bring much-needed rain for thirsty crops. But a gray sky that turns menacing
can usher in floods, and a gray-green sky may signal a tornado and danger.
Sounds of Emotion
Word choices can also reflect emotions. The sounds of a character’s words can
influence mood and setting.
Hard consonants create a feeling of harshness. Brisk. Terse. Cut. Kill. Dank.
Many words that end with “y” are light, even fun. Pretty. Dainty. Lovely. Perky.
Words that roll around in the mouth are fun to write, and we don’t have to be
Mary Poppins fans to appreciate supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.
Words with soft consonants are soothing. Add a long vowel sound and we can
relax our reader’s heart rate: Oh, honey.
Writers of romance use words and phrases expressing beauty, love, and longing
that reveal the character’s feelings.
The rhythm of our sentences can also underscore emotions. Writers who read
their work aloud or use text-to-voice software hear how their work sounds. If a
passage seems harsh when you meant to create a calm scene, or if a sentence
contains a poetic lilt when you wanted to show violence, revise your phrasing.
Using Body Language
Body language and emotions are dancing partners. A character can deny how
she feels, but her body language will give her away. The Emotion Thesaurus: A
Writer’s Guide to Character Expression by Angela Ackerman and Becca Puglisi
is essential for every writer. The book pairs emotion with body language to help
writers create realistic responses. Earlier we talked about Tonya Reiman’s The
Power of Body Language and the seven universal emotions: surprise, fear, anger,
sadness, disgust, happiness, and contempt. I use both books to avoid trite
responses.
If a writer wants to expand her knowledge of human emotions, explore these
twenty-four feelings: anxious
angry
happy
hopeful
panicky
sad
hurt
helpless
bored
annoyed
regretful
relaxed
envious
depressed
 tense
jealous
cynical
caring
confused
impatient
joyous
guilty
excited
serene
Yes, exploring these emotions is a challenge, but a writer who strives to show
credible behavior will write quality fiction. Our heroes and heroines are not
perfect, and once the character has befriended the reader, emotions affect the
relationship.
When you hit a roadblock in conveying emotion through dialogue, reach into
your memories for a highly emotional time. What was said? Do the words still
echo? The words a character says with the deepest emotion are the ones a reader
remembers. “Frankly Scarlett. I don’t give….”
In her book Dialogue, Gloria Kempton says angry people don’t make sense.
How true. The tirade can continue for years. We don’t need to compose line after
line of useless dialogue, but we can show a character out of control. This is
another area where you can search your experiences.
The masterful writer can twist the heart of her character—and her reader. This
works for any genre. Think through history when passionate writing moved
people to accomplish great or infamous things. Words can build up or destroy.
Consider a time in your own life when words encouraged or defeated you.


Seize heart-wrenching moments. Be honest with your character’s feelings. Be
bold. Raw. Rip open scars. Then stand back and admire the best scenes you’ve
ever written. Just keep a box of tissues beside your keyboard.
Emotive conflict. Where will it take you?
Stretching
Consider times you experienced the seven universal emotions. What prompted
those feelings? Record the who, what, where, when, and why—as well as the
intensity.
Surprise
Fear
Anger
Sadness
Disgust
Happiness
Contempt
Now look at your expanded list of emotions. How does your character express
those feelings?
More Stretching
How does your character show anger? Study your character’s personality,
backstory, and assigned traits. Be specific with an element of surprise.
Now compose a scene in which your character reacts with anger. Are you
pleased with the results?
Chapter 11 - Writing Dialogue that Sparkles
Part I
I’ve found that good dialogue tells you not only what people are saying or how
they’re communicating, but it tells you a great deal—by dialect and tone, content
and circumstances—about the quality of the character.
—O. Wilson

A dancer’s steps are not choreographed merely to take up space on a stage or fill
in the bars of a score of music. They have purpose: to deepen the meaning of the
performance.
Readers devour dialogue. They want to hear what characters have to say and
how they say it. They want to learn about the problems, the plot, and all the
exciting happenings of the characters’ lives.
Dialogue written just to take up word count wastes the writer’s talent and the
reader’s time. Dialogue is able to accomplish so much more. Good dialogue is
fresh, exciting, and oozes with potential conflict.
I like to think of dialogue as a war zone. When a writer declares war between
characters, the page becomes a battlefield, and the verbal and nonverbal
exchange explodes on your manuscript.
“Kim, isn’t it your turn to clean up the kitchen?”
“Yeah, Dad, I’m on it.”
“That’s what you said thirty minutes ago.”
“It’ll get done.”
“Now.”
“Hey, I’m busy.”“You’re texting. Now.”
“Get off my case. You aren’t even my real dad.”
“Hand over your phone and your car keys.”
“That car’s mine. You have no right to—”
“I bought it. It’s mine.”
Read a passage of dialogue from one of your favorite authors. Note the crisp
word choices and the rhythm of the spoken word. Some fiction experts claim
dialogue’s purpose is to move the story along or enhance characterization, but I
prefer what Gloria Kempton says: “Dialogue’s purpose, and there is no
exception to this, is to create tension in the present and build suspense for what’s
to come…Effective dialogue always, always delivers tension.”
If a passage you’ve written doesn’t fit that description, hit the delete key or
rework the scene. The verbal exchange within your story must stay focused—
which is not what happens in real conversations. So how do we create dialogue
that sizzles while ensuring it sounds real?
Begin with characterization: knowing the characters’ personality and their wants
and needs. This allows their words to be authentic. It also takes time: pages of
writing drafts of scenes to discover the character and watch her in action. This
means only one character can say a given line. Never cut and paste dialogue
from one character to another. Interchangeable lines signifies mere talking
heads, with no individual word choice or defining actions. Taking shortcuts
means the writing suffers.
Have your character speak as soon as possible. Get her involved in a
conversation with another character—someone who challenges her, disagrees
with her, frightens her, loves her. The way a character handles confrontation
helps a reader to identify with her—and begin to form that crucial sympathetic
bond. A reader judges who the character is by how she handles trouble. Expertly
written dialogue shows the character in situations she wants to avoid—and we
are eager to read that response.
Establish a vocabulary for the character and stick with it (unless there is a
distinct reason to change it). Always think word choice and the reader’s ability
to understand what the character is communicating.
Before I begin a novel, I write pages of backstory. I want a document of what’s
gone on in the life of my viewpoint character before page one. This allows me to
deepen characterization, weave a tighter plot, and compose focused dialogue.
When you discover what motivates your character—and why—her problems and
goals become more evident. The character has unresolved issues and is
preoccupied with them. That motivation shows up in her actions and what she
thinks and says.
Ever have a conversation with a three-year-old who wants a cookie? The child
will say or do anything to convince you she needs a cookie.
“Mommy, can I have a cookie?
“It’s too close to dinner.”
“Please.”
“No honey. You can have a cookie after your eat your meat and
 vegetables.”
“But I want it now.”
“After dinner.”
“You look pretty today.”
“Thank you, but no cookie.”
“I still be hungry for dinner. I promise.”
“Wonderful.”
“I pick up my toys.”
“Okay, here’s your cookie.”
“Can I have one for each hand?”
Make sure your dialogue contains conflict—even between characters who
normally agree. No conflict; no reader satisfaction.
Dialogue means more than words. Silence is also an effective tool. Use body
language—in the form of action tags—to relate what the character truly feels.
With a good understanding of body language, you can compose effective
dialogue using nonverbal communication that demonstrates emotion, even when
the character doesn’t realize what she’s revealing. Communications experts say
up to 90 percent of communication is nonverbal. Including body language
enables you to show and not tell.
Envision each scene—perhaps even act it out. Put yourself in place of the
character and let creativity take over. Have conversations with the characters and
place them in varied settings. See how they respond. The adventure begins when
the character opens her mouth and steps on stage. Study screenplays and the art
of screenplay writing, where dialogue carries the plot.
When witty and fresh dialogue pushes the plot toward the finish line, the reader
will want to pick up the writer’s next book—and the next.
Stretching
Compose a line of dialogue for each POV character in your story. Use language
only that viewpoint character would say—but no speaker tags. Show your work
to someone who knows your story to see if she can identify who is speaking.
Select a passage of dialogue from your story. Remove all the descriptions and
action tags. Do the words alone still convey the correct meaning?
More Stretching
Use this scenario, selecting one of the characters listed. Write a short scene,
using dialogue, in deep point of view.
A man leaves work late and hurries to his vehicle. His son’s soccer game
starts in ten minutes, and he promised the boy he’d be there. The man feels
a tug on his arm. He swings around and realizes two teenage boys are
trying to snatch his wallet.
The man is:
An off-duty cop
A lawyer
A pastor
In the middle of a panic attack
Working for organized crime

Chapter 12 - Writing Dialogue That Sparkles
Part II
It made me alive to the fact that the most important thing sometimes is what isn’t
said—to prepare for moments of revelation that can be read entirely on actor’s
faces without dialogue.
—Robert Towne

The time comes when every dancer realizes her skills have to strengthen if she’s
going to reach her goals. Her practice hours increase. She searches for a coach
who can challenge her. Her performance must match what her heart is telling
her.
In the previous chapter we discussed the basics of writing dialogue. Now we’ll
explore how a writer can use dialogue to create tension and conflict.
Successful dialogue focuses on warfare, both verbal and nonverbal exchanges.
This is the life and breath of every novel.
Gloria Kempton says dialogue can be indirect, subtle, and ambiguous.
Thomas Sawyer says dialogue should be tight, realistic, original, unexpected,
authentic, and rhythmic.
Those are tough measuring sticks!
Consider your character’s dialogue. Is she always direct? Or is she ever
ambiguous? Does what she says raise questions? Does she pose situations that
leave others confused? Frustrated? Speechless? Do you use subtexting to add
another layer of meaning to the passage? If your characters are accomplishing
those, you are well on your way to dancing with dialogue.
Here is a passage from my novel Breach of Trust. The hero, a high school
football coach and teacher, has brought a student to the public library to find a
book for a report.
Miles leaned onto the desk top. “I have no idea, but I’ll find out.
Any help you could throw his way will be greatly appreciated.” He
couldn’t even tend to business with Paige without his blood pressure
rising to the point of needing medication.
“We’ve got a couple of books here about Jim Thorpe. I can find
more info online. I’ll pull something together before you leave.”
“Thanks. I read in the paper that Daniel Keary donated the new
 computers.”
A cold stare replaced the warm glow. “What of it?”
The sudden shift of mood caught Miles off-guard until he
remembered the phone call he’d overheard when she’d told
someone to “pick them up.”
“So you’re not overly pleased about Daniel Keary’s generous
contribution?”
Paige smirked. “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. But that
doesn’t apply to Trojan horses.” She took a stack of books from a
small boy and touched his cheek.
Miles studied Paige until the little boy said his goodbyes.
“Obviously, you haven’t jumped on the bandwagon to support
Keary.”
“Has it started to snow in July?”
“But he’s conservative, stands for pro-life, wants to lower taxes, and
he’s a Christian. I read that he’s served his country well, too. The
other guys are jokes.”
“Even Lucifer was called ‘Morning Star, Son of Dawn.’ Don’t be
suckered by the image, Coach.”
“Hey, you know something I don’t? He looks like a shoo-in.”
“Whatever. You can nominate him for sainthood. I’m sure his office
can supply the forms.”
Miles was taken aback by her sarcasm. The woman he’d grown to
know had never been vicious before. “Give me one plank of his
platform that you disagree with. That’s all I ask.”
“You’re right. Keary stands for good things. He’s against abortion,
lowering taxes, and supports faith-based initiatives, but a woman
has a right to her own opinion.”
“What is it that you dislike about this guy?”
Paige pulled a book from the shelf. “He shouldn’t have had to give
back his medals.”
“Keary?”
“No,” Paige said, walking away. “Jim Thorpe.”
Writing in-character dialogue means being true to the story’s premise and theme
while creating scenes that lead to the climax. One of the writer’s considerations
is composing dialogue appropriate to the genre.
Fantasy
Fantasy writers can invent words to make their imaginary setting a place of
beauty and mystery. Fantasy story world is reflected in a culture that is
predominantly medieval, reaching into Celtic, Greek, and Roman folklore,
legends, and mythology. Magic often plays a role in the plot. Dialogue can be
poetic, and even sound romantic. But beware of using too much archaic
language and syntax. Just as you can hint at a dialect without going overboard
with creative spelling, a few well-chosen phrases can allow readers to hear the
fantasy world’s speech. Creating a glossary at the beginning of your novel helps
the reader visualize and experience the fantasy story world’s culture.
Romance
Romance writers can use poetic, flowery language to show how a relationship
develops with a happily-ever-after ending. Characters see the world in
unexpected beauty, and unlikely characters can be humorous or giddy. (A
romantic element can be woven through every genre.) Horror
Horror writers use dark words and hard consonants to frighten their characters
and readers. Symbolism also plays a role in producing fear, whether real or
imagined. Horror, says Clive Barker, “shows us that the control we believe we
have is purely illusory, and that every moment, we teeter on chaos and oblivion.”
Suspense
Suspense writers want to snag the reader’s breath. The characters are surprised,
verbally or physically attacked, or sense something is about to happen. So the
writer uses words that indicate anxiety or unpredictability while the character
attempts to discover the truth or stop an event with disastrous potential.
Historical
Historical writers use era and setting to play a vital role in showing how events
occurred, plus the when, where, why, and goal of the story. Through the
important tool of language, convey culture and values, while painting a credible
depiction of the times. For 11/22/63, Stephen King used the slang and attitudes
of the late 1950s and early 1960s with great effect.
Contemporary
Writers keep up to date on language, technology, setting, and all the nuances that
shape a contemporary character. Stories set after World War II are generally
considered contemporary, but if you’re going back more than ten years, expect
to research that year’s phrases, entertainment, and controversies. Remember how
in the first Back to the Future film, Marty McFly found himself lost in the world
of his parents’ youth? We’d be just as challenged to fit into the world of 1985,
when the film was made.
Contemporary Young Adult
Writers of contemporary young adult understand youth are immature and
inexperienced. The dialogue is raw, edgy, honest, and lacks subtlety. If you have
experience with a teenager, you know what I mean.
Below the Surface
Dialogue that says what the character means—and nothing more—cheats the
story and the reader. As Francine Prose says, “Dialogue usually contains as
much or even more subtext than it does text. More is going on under the surface
than on it. One mark of badly written dialogue is that it is only doing one thing,
at most, at once.”
That’s when you need to reach for the technique called subtexting. In the
previous chapter, we talked about body language that spoke louder than the
character’s words. Subtexting concerns the real conversation going on between
the lines of the spoken dialogue, the highly charged thoughts and feelings that
characters don’t express directly. Use this technique at every opportunity.
Subtexting is especially important when characters who dislike each other are
forced to communicate, work together, or live where they must get along. People
aren’t always completely honest with themselves, or others, which sets the stage
for ambiguity—and conflict.
Try these tips to help you compose dialogue that sparkles: Select word choices
and gestures that establish the speaker.
State an occurrence once. Show the response—but not what was
stated. The reader will understand without repetition.
Avoid using italics for a character’s thoughts. Each time italics
appear, the reader must make an adjustment, which throws the
reader out of the story. Also italics are more difficult to read in e-
books.
The best dialogue happens when two people enter a scene with
different goals. She wants to find out if he really loves her, but he
wants to see if he can break their movie date so he can go hunting.
Avoid repeating first names: “Marsha.” “John.” “Marsha.” “John.”
A pronoun is more intimate.
 Avoid having the character spell things out. RTUTE: resist the urge
to explain. Dialogue meant to show a writer’s research distracts
from the story.
Always be listening: in restaurants, at family dinners, in crowds.
Keep a notebook and jot unique dialogue.
Be willing to condense and be concise. Avoid adverbs.
Use only “said” as a dialogue tag. Any other word, even “asked,”
calls attention to itself. The syntax and the question mark makes it
clear to the reader.
Avoid semicolons. Except for professors and politicians, we speak
in phrases or short sentences.
Limit exclamation points. Use word choice, body language, and the
mood to convey the tone. Stronger language allows the reader to
feel a part of the experience more than a punctuation mark. In the
dialogue below, it’s clear, without special punctuation, that Susan is
fleeing for her life.
“A man is after me with a knife.” Susan raced through the
crowd.
Punctuation in dialogue can be a problem, but a review of an English grammar
guide will help.
Here are a few common problem areas and solutions.
End punctuation is placed inside the quotation marks.
“I want to read a novel.”
Use a comma before the quotations marks if a tag is used.
“I want to read a novel,” Susan said.
Use a period after the dialogue and before the quotation marks if the sentence is
complete and followed by an action tag.
These are two complete sentences.
“I want to read an exciting novel.” Anne pulled a new book from the
shelf.
Use a period after an action tag and before the dialogue.
These are two complete sentences.
Anne pulled a new book from the shelf. “I want to read a novel.”
Some writers feel that for dialect to sound authentic, they need to misspell
words. This technique distracts the reader. Write in standard English so the
reader understands perfectly what’s being said.
An occasional dropping of the letter “g” is permissible.
An occasional “ya” instead of “you” is permissible.
Avoid odd spellings.
Fad or trendy speech patterns date your writing. Be sure this is the
desired effect.
Ethnic speech may insult your reader.
With foreign words or phrases, type it once in italics with the English meaning
clearly identified. The second time, type it in regular font.
Use foreign words sparingly.
If in doubt, refer to The Chicago Manual of Style.
Vulgarity is a controversial topic in Christian publishing. It’s a case of using
realistic speech vs. potentially offending a reader. If you state a character swore,
and the reader will understand the tension in the passage. This is an opportunity
to incorporate figurative language without foul language.
His outburst sounded like a sailor on steroids.
I hadn’t heard such language since my bar room days.
“You worthless—” he cursed.
Read dialogue aloud. Text-to-voice software also allows you to hear how your
prose sounds.
Eliminate extraneous words and write just what needs to be conveyed. Properly
written dialogue moves the reader to laugh, cry, be angry, cheer—a whole gamut
of emotions.
Pacing is key. If you need to speed up the scene, eliminate the gestures and
action and let verbal communication carry the battle. If the pace needs to slow,
add gestures, description, and action tags. A reader may skip the exposition, but
she’ll always focus on what’s being said—the balance and rhythm of dialogue.
Ensure your dialogue is emotive, explosive, and ambiguous. You’ll keep your
reader turning pages.
Stretching
Compose a one-page passage of dialogue in each of these genres in which
subtexting and body language play an integral role.
Fantasy
 Romance
Horror
Suspense
Historical
Contemporary
Contemporary Youth

Chapter 13 - Symbolism
Part I
Chocolate symbolizes, as does no other food, luxury, comfort, sensuality,
gratification, and love.
—Karl Petzke

The art of dance interprets life; it’s a symbol of the highs and lows of human
emotion.
We can use symbolism to provide meaning to an object, action, or thought with
an abstract meaning beyond what we actually describe. The action takes place on
one level, while symbolism acts on another to deepen the novel.
Writers often struggle with how to incorporate symbolism. How does it fit into
premise and theme? Does it heighten emotion? Does it encourage the reader to
see beyond the obvious? Is it part of the story line? How does a writer choose a
symbol? Is symbolism critical for a successful novel?
In this chapter we’ll discuss evocative language and why it’s an important tool in
creating quality fiction—and how a writer can incorporate this literary device.
Story is about a character with a goal to achieve or a problem to solve. The
character’s journey is laden with difficulties, and while attempting to put those
problems behind her, she becomes attached to “something”—a tangible item that
takes on a psychological meaning.
Symbolism touches the reader with subtle understanding of theme and premise.
Suddenly the weather, rushing water, a color, a number, an item of jewelry, or
the way the stars light up the night mean something more—psychologically.
Since the beginning of time, storytellers have used symbolism to add depth to
their tales. Consider the occurrence of a storm at a point in story where there are
high emotions or conflict. Snoopy was right in borrowing from Edward Bulwer-
Lytton: “It was a dark and stormy night.” A transition from day to night, or
spring to winter, could reflect a move from goodness to evil, from hope to
despair. A river could represent the flow of life from birth to death. Flowers can
project youth or beauty.
Eudora Welty said, “Symbols have to spring from the work direct, and stay
alive. Symbols for the sake of symbols are counterfeit, and were they all
stamped on the page in red they couldn’t have any more quickly given
themselves away.”
Writers create their stories with character, plot, setting, dialogue, emotion,
narrative, and so much more. Sometimes their own blood. Read back through
that last phrase. What does “their own blood” mean to you? Hard work? Sweat
that feels like blood?
The sentence came naturally, which is where all symbols are born. Every area of
the writing process has the potential to add psychological meaning. By providing
an evocative and emotional experience, we enable a reader to identify elements
of story beyond the written word. She discovers a new level of appreciation
because the symbol has attached itself to the characters—and the reader.
Not everything in a story is symbolic. A sunset can be merely a stunning display
of color. A character enjoys Starbucks coffee. She fancies a particular model of
car—and it means nothing else. The key is to incorporate symbolism without
confusing the reader.
In Word Painting, Rebecca McClanahan says, “A symbol is a visible sign—an
object or action—that points to a world of meaning beyond itself.” That meaning
is not directly stated, but through repetition the reader understands what it
signifies to the character. In Beginnings, Middles, and Ends, Nancy Kress
suggests a sensitive reader will conclude such a story with a sense of
recognition.
A symbol can influence the overall dimension of story. In the premise, “Love
conquers hate,” the visual of a triumphant army overcoming incredible odds to
claim victory can serve as motivation to create a powerful story line. The
premise entices the writer to think outside her world, possibly opening her mind
to develop the story in ways she has never considered.
In Writing the Breakout Novel, Donald Maass says, “The most effective pattern
to follow is that of a single symbol.” He points to the importance of the ring in
Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings, and how the story would not have had the impact if
he had used several symbols.
Sometimes a writer, often a novice, becomes enamored with using symbols and
peppers the manuscript with such elements instead of first creating a good story.
Overuse dilutes what the writer wants to accomplish. The symbol becomes
meaningless. For lasting impact, use the technique sparingly.
A symbol can underscore the spiritual realm of a story. That symbol doesn’t
have to be obvious. Perhaps a scarf a character’s mother wore to church or a
rocking chair her father used when reading the Bible. The key is to understand
what the item represents psychologically. The reader may enjoy the story
without recognizing your symbol. That’s okay. But others will appreciate the
added depth. Choose a character’s name to signify who she is and her role in the
story. The name must mean something, if only for you as writer. The stories
rising from mythology, the Bible, and other cultures depict the importance of
naming a child according to events, visions, culture, and family history.
A symbol of food can be used for a protagonist who sacrifices to feed the poor,
or you can use food for an antagonist who gives for selfish reasons. In both
instances, food represents the character’s motivation. For one it is a vehicle to
aid the hungry, for the other it is a vehicle of manipulation.
Characters may refrain from stating how they feel about a situation, but through
our framing, the reader learns about their thoughts and emotions. A cleverly
inserted symbol—a word or phrase that points to a deeper meaning—provides a
subtle way for the reader to grasp the character’s internal workings.
“A symbol means more than itself,” Rebecca McClanahan says, “but first it
means itself.” She cites Crane’s The Red Badge of Courage. The symbol is not
courage (intangible) but the stain of blood (tangible). Although in this story the
blood represents courage, it could mean something entirely different in another
book.
James Scott Bell states, “From the start, we have a connection.” The character(s)
and the reader form an attachment to an object that no longer means only its
original definition. Bell discusses Norman Maclean’s A River Runs Through It,
in which the setting is a river in Montana—and religion and trout fishing are
considered one in the same. “The motif was literal at the beginning, symbolic at
the end,” Bell says. “It frames and defines the story.”
A winding road may indicate a journey. A fork in the road may mean the need to
make a choice. A straight road may represent determination or perseverance.
Whether the choices are right or wrong depends on the character.
Symbolism in dialogue is another way to enhance the story’s theme. Dialogue is
birthed in character, which means that what she says, along with body language,
demonstrates who she is. A character who stutters or uses flamboyant gestures or
curses provides the reader with a glimpse into that character’s life.
The things characters notice through their senses offer another source of
symbols. What a character sees can mean so much, whether the object is
physical or in the character’s mind. In Charles Frazier’s Cold Mountain, the
mountain also represents the harshness of life as the characters struggle to
survive.
In chapter six, we discussed creating an antagonistic setting. That also provides
opportunities for strong symbolism. An encroaching forest fire can transform a
fabulous vacation home into a death trap. Working for a prestigious company
can become a source of evil, as in John Grisham’s The Firm.
Then there’s what a character hears. The call of a bird can be pleasant, unless the
bird is a predator. A mother’s voice normally signifies love and caring. But if a
mother is abusive, the sound can represent impending danger.
As McClanahan says in Word Painting, what a character tastes can influence
memory and perception. Any mother who’s endured morning sickness will recall
the foods that triggered an upset stomach.
Imagine a feast of pizza for a team of high school football players before the big
game. What usually stands for enthusiasm and a commitment to win can change
drastically if the players fall ill to food poisoning. Then the smell of pizza can
provoke a lingering repulsive memory.
The sense of smell has incredible power. A writer introduces a woman with a
distinct cologne. Whenever the male character notices that smell, he associates it
with beauty, charm, and grace. But if the woman shuns him, he comes to despise
that scent.
Touch can also infuse a story’s with an array of emotions. As McClanahan says,
“Touch, by definition, is an intimate sense…A well-written description that
employs the sense of touch bridges physical and emotional distances.” Consider
the parent who disciplines a child with a time-out. When the parent retrieves the
child to talk about the inappropriate behavior and to reinforce her love, she
touches the child, both emotionally and physically. As McClanahan says, a
person can be stimulated by what they see, hear, taste, or smell, but when a
person is touched, the sensation invites intimacy.
In the next chapter, we’ll continue our discussion. Until then, consider how you
can add symbolism to your story.

Stretching
If you have a symbol in your story, what is it? What does it mean to your
character(s)?
If you don’t have a symbol, is there a possibility to include one? What
might it be, and what could it represent?
Your character has been given a medal for bravery for something she
hasn’t done. Write a short passage about how she views the medal.

Chapter 14 - Symbolism
Part II
Symbolism exists to adorn and enrich, not to create an artificial sense of
profundity.
—Stephen King

A dance not only provides entertainment, it also can usher in emotions that stem
from experiencing the event—even if the emotions have nothing to do with the
performance.
In the previous chapter, we discussed how symbolism adds richness to story. In
this chapter, we’ll explore some of the opportunities writers have to add that
extra layer of meaning.
One way symbolism enhances fiction is through animals and nature. David
Colbert writes, “Early Christianity reveals a Celtic pagan belief that a ‘stag lost
and regrew its horns, which was a symbol of resurrection and immorality.’”
Roman historian Pliny wrote that a “stag was capable of destroying snakes.”
When the early monks sought to evangelize the Celts, they used the story of the
stag to depict Christ’s resurrection. This paved the way for C. S. Lewis to
incorporate the white stag into The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.
Glimpses of nature are subtle means of leaving a message: a lone wolf, a
struggling plant in a concrete city, mountains, a single tree in a field, a desert,
and much more. The four seasons are often used to represent a person’s life
span. As a child is born and journeys through life, so do the seasons progress
from spring to winter. A May-December wedding indicates the woman or man is
much younger. A character experiencing the brink of adulthood may be
symbolized by the summer of her life.
Colors and Numbers
As we discussed in chapter ten, we can use color to create mood and add
meaning to a scene. The colors a character chooses for clothing, a vehicle, or
those used in her home provide a subtle indication of her personality. In setting,
the colors of a landscape or weather create a psychological effect that sets the
temperature of the scene.
White signifies purity, peace, cleanliness, humility, light—all things right and
good.
Red is the color of courage, love, seduction, pain, and agony.
Green is the color of life. It’s vital to nature—a sanctuary or a symbol of growth.
It can also signify money and wealth, envy, greed, and even corruption.
Blue is the color of the sea, sky, peace, harmony, calmness, coolness, and
confidence.
Black can mean evil, death, power, and mystery. In Harper Lee’s To Kill a
Mockingbird, published in 1960 about the defense of a black man, black
represents not only death, but also prejudice, hate, and evil.
Gray is strange psychologically. It stands between life and death, truth and
falsehood, right and wrong.
Yellow represents joy, happiness, and hope—and cowardice. Dr. Dennis E.
Hensley of Taylor University states, “Yellow is the only swing color. It can
mean blindness, as in the biblical accounting of Paul’s blindness on the way to
Damascus, or it can mean enlightenment.”
Purple can mean royalty, nobility, wisdom, or arrogance.
Brown stands for those things that are “of the earth.”
Numbers have always been viewed as symbolic.
Dr. Hensley states:
One indicates wholeness.
Three represents the Holy Trinity.
Six means incompleteness, as 666 represents the Antichrist, the
False Prophet, and Satan, who wants to be like God the Father,
Jesus the Son, and the Holy Spirit.
Seven indicates completeness, as in God finishing creation then
resting on the seventh day.
Twelve is the number of fulfilled judgment, as in twelve months in a
year and twelve jurors deciding the fate of someone on trial.
By Genre
We can see the significance of symbolism through different genres. Horror,
romance, suspense, western, historical, science-fiction, fantasy, and mystery
novels use symbols to set the story’s tone and voice. Just as symbolism in
different genres requires tangible objects that take on abstract meaning, so does
figurative language set the stage for story type.
Often using red and black, horror stories use symbolism to create an
environment of death, evil, fear, savagery, and torture. Shadows and repugnant
smells, along with rusty chains, knives, and ropes mark the horror sure to come.
Horror stories draw their effect from words that evoke fear, dread, and pain.
Alliteration, the hiss of “s,” and soft and hard consonants all play a role.
Romance and many literary novels use flowers and the beauty of nature to
represent how the characters feel about each other. All is filtered through the
eyes of care and affection. These novels draw their symbolism from a poetic
view of life and love. The phrasing is often lyrical, and the symbol resonates
with intensity. The word choice feels graceful, sensitive, and contains a flowing
rhythm. The metaphors and similes that evoke exquisite mental pictures often
have a meaning of beauty.
Suspense novels can use a ticking clock, a dripping faucet, nature’s fury, or other
tangible items to create an edgy feeling. Such novels use specific words and
phrases to keep the reader on edge, to keep the pages turning and the reader
breathless. In his article, “Ten Rules for Suspense Fiction,” Brian Garfield points
out that the key in choosing symbols is to select the tangible item that represents
a narrowing of space and time—then squeeze the time limit even more. 1
Suspense authors may use objects such as an ambulance, a car that always
refuses to start, or a watch that stops to intensify the suspense.
Westerns and historical fiction use objects familiar to the characters of the era to
symbolize the story’s essence. Barbed wire can indicate danger or an impending
range war. A rusty star can mark a lawman who has sold out or a man too old for
the job. Tumbleweed may indicate a restless character, and a curtain over a
window may represent a woman’s touch. These genres use language that
combines culture and setting in creating passages that reveal the characters
living in their time. How the characters earn their living, from the town sheriff to
the local prostitute, influence the words they use—and thus the symbolism in
their lives.
Science-fiction and fantasy often use terrain to establish not only symbolic
meaning but also plot. Think of the role of water and its absence in the desert
world of Frank Herbert’s Dune. Bigger than life creatures can represent hurdles
to be overcome. Daring attempts at heroics often indicate the insecurity in a
character’s life. Characters do not have to succeed to be a hero; they simply need
to give their best. Science-fiction and fantasy also pull from a unique culture to
establish figurative language. Often the writer is free to develop an environment
and a vocabulary that reflects society. Creativity explodes in these genres and
challenges the writer to develop symbols that fit the storyline, like a
choreographer inventing new dance steps.
Mysteries invoke locked doors, bodies, missing weapons, and the traits of an
unlikely sleuth to demonstrate the power of an unanswered question. This genre
uses a crime, a sleuth, many clues, and red herrings. As Stephen D. Rogers
states, “A red herring is something that appears to be a clue but in fact, it is not.
Just as smoked herrings were used to lead fox hounds on a merry chase, red
herrings give mystery readers false trails to follow.” The figurative language
generally involves clues to solve the mystery. These objects and the description
can confuse the sleuth, but often not the reader. Word choice reflects the type of
crime, the setting, and the clues.
Organic Symbolism
Symbols are everywhere. Perhaps you’re reading this while sitting in a waiting
room as the only passenger on a bus. Consider a dead-end street; a sign that
states, “No shoes, no shirt, no entry;” or a teenager ignoring a parent.
Some writers carefully plan their symbolism, and cleverly place an object for its
psychological meaning. But the best symbols arise from characters and their
actions. The character views the symbol based on her experience and lures the
reader also to look at it that way.
Once when I spoke to a book club about my novel When the Nile Runs Red, one
of the members commended me on the use of symbolism. I had no idea what she
was talking about, so—in hopes of putting together a literary response—I asked
what was the clue. She pointed out my use of the Hummer. Then I knew what
she was talking about. The setting was Southern Sudan before that war-torn
country became independent. My hero had purchased his wife a Hummer to
keep her safe, but I blew it up—signifying my hero’s trust in the tangible instead
of faith in God. I hadn’t planned it as a symbol; it entered my story through the
characters and plot.
For any writer, symbolism offers endless possibilities. You’ll stretch yourself to
create an artfully placed object that provides lasting meaning to the story. But its
meaning and resonance for the reader is worth the challenge.
In the words of Stephen King, “Symbolism does serve a useful purpose, though
—it’s more than just chrome on the grille. It can serve as a focusing device for
both you and your reader, helping to create a more unified and pleasing work.”
Stretching
What genre are you writing? How does the genre affect symbolism?
In reading through the list of colors and referring to chapter ten on
emotion, what color(s) will add psychological depth to your story?
 Write a short passage involving your antagonist’s favorite color.

Note
1. Garfield, Brian. “Ten Rules for Suspense Fiction,” International Thriller
Writers. 1994. 23 Apr. 2008 < http://www.thrillerwriters.org/2007/01/ten-rules-
for-suspense-fiction.html>
Chapter 15 - Exposition, Narrative Summary, and Internal
Dialogue Narrative is linear, but action has breadth and depth as well as
height and is solid.
—Thomas Carlyle

Novel writing is like a dance team who, with their individual personalities, work
together to entertain us. We don’t see the many layers of perfected steps and
creativity that go into a choreographed number, but those items must be added
for the dance to succeed. Understanding where each dancer fits into the routine
takes effort and hours of sweat. So while they’re drenched, let’s establish the
difference between exposition, narrative summary, and internal dialogue so we
can understand how these literary techniques may fit into your story.
Writers often question the use of exposition, narrative summary, and internal
dialogue. They understand these devices can make a story drag, yet they have
value. Because one of the first lessons a writer learns is that “telling” brings
rejection from agents, editors, and readers, she may assume she should delete
anything that isn’t dialogue. This chapter will explain these techniques and how
to use them.
Readers want to see action unfold as it is happening. They are disappointed
when a writer fails to allow them to be part of the story, as though someone
threw a lavish party and the reader wasn’t invited. But is there a place for
exposition, narrative summary, and internal dialogue?
The Trouble with Exposition
A common misuse of exposition is the information dump. In effect the writer
hits the story’s pause button and unloads what she feels is vital information. So
she tells the reader all she knows about a subject from her research. This
authorial intrusion not only annoys the reader, but it also demonstrates a writer’s
me-first attitude. Masses of exposition do not serve your story as an engine
additive. Take your dump truck filled with exposition and park it where your
reader will never find it.
Identifying Exposition
Can you pick out the exposition below?
Susan eased into the chair facing Karen’s desk. “You wanted to see
me?”
 “You’re fired.” Karen lifted her chin. “I told you when I took over
as supervisor that I’d look for a way to get rid of you.”
Susan coaxed her lunch back into her stomach, a Swiss cheese and
ham on rye from the new deli across the street. The establishment
had given all the employees a free sandwich, but the bread was hard
and the cheese was old. “I just landed a two million dollar account.”
Karen sneered. “I’ll take the credit.” She nodded at the door where
the security guard stood. “Please escort Susan to her desk. Make
sure she retrieves only her purse before removing her from the
building. Walk her down the unpainted hallway, where the painters
are using a semi-gloss paint from Sherwin-Williams.”
“I want to talk to the CEO.”
“Send him an email.”
The CEO didn’t provide his email address. Life’s unfairness had
gone on for years. Susan’s past demonstrated one failure after
another. The first one was in kindergarten when her mother held her
back because she couldn’t read. The next door neighbor told her she
was stupid, and her dad said they’d have to move. Two weeks later,
she spilled milk at the table when her parents had guests for dinner.
Three days later, she tripped over the dog, and the animal howled
and bit her. Her grandmother accused her of stealing money from
her purse. Susan had a temper tantrum.
And the exposition in the scene below:
“Hey Mom, I really appreciate your helping me bake cupcakes for
Tommy’s kindergarten class for his sixth birthday.” Susan handed
her mother a freshly brewed cup of coffee that she’d prepared with
Starbucks’ new blend just before her arrival.
Mom took a sip of the black coffee, and Susan waited for her
response. “Perfect. Thanks for inviting me to your new house on
Elm Street where you’ve lived for only three months,”
“Oh, we love the four thousand square feet and new furniture that
we bought when we moved in. Would you mind pulling out the
cupcake tins, you know the ones that hold the cupcake papers that
are in the pantry?”
Mom set her coffee cup on the counter and pulled out the cupcake
tin. “These are dirty. Mind if I wash them?”
 Susan gasped. The horror of her mother finding a soiled cupcake tin
was more than she could bear. What if Mom told her friends? What
if the school found out and wouldn’t let Tommy serve the cupcakes
to his friends? “I’m so sorry. I’ll scour them with Comet and rinse
them in bleach so they will be clean and disinfected for Tommy’s
birthday cupcakes that he wants to take to school tomorrow for his
kindergarten class in honor of his sixth birthday.”
Mom picked up her coffee cup. “Susan, get a life.” (And so should
we if we write like this.) I’m sure those scenes gave you a laugh, but
hyperbole can be a good teacher.
Backstory can cause the same problems as exposition if not used properly. The
events that happen before chapter one drive the character’s motivation. But
release that information in bits and pieces, when required by the plot. Blended in
properly, backstory helps readers understand the motivation behind your story.
Sidestepping Summary
The purpose of narrative summary, also known as summary or narration, is to
summarize events that aren’t vitally interesting but still need to be included.
Although “show, don’t tell” is a writer’s motto, minor happenings should be
revealed in the most effective way: clearly and succinctly.
Before including it, make certain a section of narrative summary is needed. Keep
your reader engaged by showing your character struggling to achieve a goal and
changing in the process. Long passages of summary cause a reader to skim and
move on to action—or possibly even stop reading. So be clear and brief.
Still, short passages of narrative summary can play an important role:
To cover time
To clarify how one point affects another
To state minor happenings needed for the storyline
To provide a change of pace when action has been high and
suspenseful for several scenes Write narrative summary in the POV
character’s voice, weaving it into story, then move quickly into
action. Summary tends to be non-emotional, and emotion keeps a
reader turning pages. Used sparingly, the device can provide
information that advances the story without disturbing the reader.
The paragraph below uses narrative summary:
Three years passed before Susan saw Karen again. Her ex-boss
 scooted into a church pew in front of her.
“How are you?” Susan hoped her smile looked more sincere than
what she truly felt.
Karen’s lips trembled. “My mother had a heart attack. She didn’t
make it.”
Effective Internal Dialogue
Internal dialogue—also called introspection or interior monologue—refers to the
conversation inside your character’s head while she reacts externally. Using it
allows you to place a full spectrum of character emotion onto the page, ensuring
the passage is rich and credible. Written in the character’s POV, it’s intimate,
often pondering matters the character would never say.
This technique does not lie, unless the character is mentally unstable. Because
the internal conversation is gut-wrenchingly honest, it hooks the reader into the
privacy of the character’s soul. It’s easier to write in first-person, because you’re
conveying the story through a single point of view.
During high-stress scenes, a character can be on an emotional high and think
irrationally—or she can remain calm and focused. Through internal dialogue a
reader learns much about the character’s goals, problems, emotions, scars, and
spiritual dilemmas.
Writers once used italics to set apart internal dialogue, but publishers are moving
away from this. Italics force a reader to make a mental adjustment, running the
risk of tossing the reader out of the experience. I prefer keeping the reader in the
story, vicariously living every moment through a character.
This example weaves dialogue with the character’s thoughts. Note how the first-
person narrative reveals the subtexting.
“Karen, why not relax and have a drink?” Dad lifted a glass filled
with amber-colored liquid. “Lighten up. So your mom’s dead. Good
riddance.”
I needed to get away, some place where I could breathe. The stench
of tobacco laced with alcohol brought back painful memories. I
swore when I was seventeen that I’d never step inside this house
again. Never be subjected to his foul mouth or his beatings. Yet,
here I— “Cat got your tongue?”
I forced a smile. “I’m fine. Just a glass of water will do.”
“Still too good to drink with your dear old Dad?” His slurred words
 were only part of the poison. How had Mom put up with him all
these years? I used to despise her for not taking me and running, but
her faith kept her a prisoner. Made me wonder if her heart attack
was a blessing. I had no idea where her afterlife had taken her, but it
had to be better than living with Dad.
Do you know more about Karen now? From this short passage we understand
her ruthlessness when she fired Susan. Her backstory doesn’t justify her actions,
but it provides a reason for her actions—and builds reader sympathy.
Stretching
Look at a scene in your story. Are there blocks of exposition longer than
just one sentence? Rewrite that scene.
Choose another scene. Do you see ways you could use narrative summary
to move past less important events?
Choose a scene with action and dialogue. Can you find a way to use
internal dialogue to show the real character?

 Chapter 16 - The Rhythm of Pacing
Mostly when I think of pacing, I go back to Elmore Leonard, who explained it so
perfectly by saying he just left out the boring parts. This suggests cutting to
speed the pace, and that’s what most of us end up having to do (kill your
darlings, kill your darlings, even when it breaks your egocentric little scribbler’s
heart, kill your darlings).
—Stephen King

Pacing reminds me of a dancer who builds momentum before leaping into the air
with beauty, grace, and purpose. Her rhythm is flawless. Her delivery exquisite.
She tells a story that one cannot resist because she varies each movement. The
dancer understands that repetition lulls the audience to sleep.
In the well-crafted novel, rhythmic pacing keeps the story alive and moving
through scenes and sequels that leave the reader eagerly turning pages.
Scene (action) and sequel (narrative) have distinct purposes. Action is faster,
heart-throbbing, and heart-wrenching. The writer uses tension and conflict—
with the element of surprise—to engage character emotion. Narrative is a
deliberate literary technique to slow the story so the reader can identify with
what’s happening to the viewpoint character. Continuous action doesn’t allow a
reader to get inside the POV character’s head. Overload can quickly set in. But
too much narrative causes the reader to skim so she can get back to the action.
Sounds simple, right? Then in the middle of our novel, a critique partner points
out that our story has screeched to a halt.
How can writers pace their story to keep it appealing? Readers will forgive a
lagging story for only so long before they close the book. In chapter eight we
discussed ways to speed up dragging portions. Look at those suggestions again,
along with the four suggested plot questions. Rate your scenes from one to ten
for importance. If a scene dips below eight, you have work to do. Tighten.
Tighten. Tighten. Look for the element of predictability, and make necessary
edits.


Genre and Pacing
Genre is an area where pacing affects the characters, story line, setting, dialogue,
and theme.
Romance novels are built on the premise of two unlikely people finding a lasting
love that nudges them to make a lifelong commitment. The romance portion
plays on the wants, needs, and fears of a possible relationship. Each offers what
the other has, but the idea of making a commitment is frightening. Is each
character willing to fight for love? Are they willing to sacrifice for the other?
What threatens to keep them apart? Strong emotions are present, along with
conflict and tension. The success or failure of the novel depends on how well a
writer paces this growing relationship.
Historical fiction is often set in a time when life was slower. Pacing must be
realistic, but don’t let the story creep across the page. Readers of this genre want
to know about the culture—dress, home life, social graces, and language. Weave
these tidbits expertly throughout the story without reverting to exposition or
lengthy narrative.
Suspense novels use the ticking clock technique to keep the pace moving with
intense action that builds on each scene—until the climax bursts onto the page,
claiming heroes and exposing villains. Get a metronome, a device used by
musicians that clicks a steady tempo. As you type, increase the beats per minute.
This works—if it doesn’t drive you crazy.
Science fiction and fantasy novels, as well as other forms of speculative fiction,
are often quests that prove the hero or heroine’s mettle. While you want the
reader to understand the setting, culture, language, and character motivation,
slower segments must still move the story to an action-filled scene.
Conflict and tension are allies of good pacing. Add emotive conflict, and the
character is motivated for future scenes.
A few tips to keep the pace flowing:
Action scenes use short sentences or phrases. Narrative takes the time to
complete a thought, explore emotions, weigh options, plan actions, or
manipulate others in the increasing need to reach a goal.

Write action scenes that keep the reader holding her breath and still begging for
more. We want our stories to be addictive.
Pacing is not about extending action scenes but accomplishing a purpose.
Write short narrative scenes. I heard an editor say she wished all books could be
scene and no narrative. What she meant was lots of action with a sprinkling of
narrative—for pacing.
Sometimes you need to hit delete on a sequel portion and send the character into
another scene—or even change to a different POV character.
Word choice is important to genre, character, increasing pace, and slowing it
down. Short words, sentences, and paragraphs peak action while longer passages
slide into narrative.
She slapped me.
Or
My face stung from her open palm. The remainder of the evening
was spent in a blur, my heart ablaze with what how she’d betrayed
me—again.
You can slow down pacing by using a different viewpoint. This pushes the
reader to make an adjustment and form a bond with a new character or return to
an already established relationship.
Write only what the viewpoint character experiences. No time to smell the
flowers unless your character’s picking them and is stung by a bee.
Is a scene stagnant, devoid of conflict and tension? Consider having it take place
off stage, then have the POV character consider the outcome in narrative.
 She’d stood me up for the third time. Made me feel like a fool,
especially when I saw her snuggle up to her ex. I’m finished.
Don’t cheat the reader by failing to use every ounce of emotion and action to
build higher stakes.
Give the character a time limit to accomplish a goal, then slice it in half.
Build pacing with the what-if principle. What is the worst possible thing that
could happen to the viewpoint character? Make a list and brainstorm a scenario
crammed with surprises.
What if Susan forgot to turn on the light in her aunt’s backyard?
What if Susan fell into the pool?
What if Susan didn’t know a water moccasin was in the pool?
What if Susan didn’t know the snake had killed a man that night?
What if Susan touched the man’s body?
What if Susan tried to climb out, but someone pushed her back?
You control the dance of character and plot. Speed up the pacing and fill the
reader with excitement, then slow it just long enough for your reader to grab her
blood pressure medication before another dynamic scene. Take charge of the
dance, and keep your readers coming back for more.
Stretching
Find a middle scene in your novel or write a scene you know will be in the
middle. Cut it in half. Are the character’s actions predictable? If so, kill
your darlings.
Examine the scene again. Convert it to one-paragraph of narrative
summary. Which format—action or summary—best propels your story?

 Chapter 17 - The Writer’s Voice
All stories have a curious and even dangerous power. They are manifestations of
truth—yours and mine. And truth is all at once the most wonderful yet terrifying
thing in the world, which makes it nearly impossible to handle. It is such a great
responsibility that it’s best not to tell a story at all unless you know you can do it
right. You must be very careful, or without knowing it you can change the world.
—Vera Nazarian

When I was four, my mother took me to my first dancing class. I wanted to
watch before I joined in. I didn’t understand that I had to participate to be a part
of the class, even if I made a mistake. A writer who wants to develop a unique
voice can’t simply read novels, she must write.
Does the subject of voice make you want to run? You’re not alone. Explanations
run the gamut from the way a writer pens her prose to bigger-than-life characters
who attract us with their view on life. Voice is everything the characters
experience and express according to their traits and the writer’s individual style.
A writer chooses unpredictable characters, both in actions and in dialogue, and
establishes a voice that draws us into the story.
A writer’s voice is her fingerprint, a way for a reader to identify style. It can’t be
developed by studying a textbook or taking a writing course. Each writer has a
unique way of stringing together words and sentences, a subconscious activity
stamped with personal style, word choice, originality, and passion for the
project.
We develop our voice over time—by writing, polishing our craft, and knowing
our characters. It’s much like our unique conversational style, but with a strong
additive: the character’s voice. That means no two characters ever quite sound
alike. A strong writer’s voice doesn’t overpower the character, but hooks the
reader’s attention and refuses to let go.
I like how Donald Maass describes voice: “not only a unique way of putting
words together, but a unique sensibility, a distinctive way of looking at the
world, an outlook that enriches an author’s oeuvre…An original. A standout. A
voice.”
Your ability to dive into character and create an adventure strengthens your
voice. In establishing that voice, weigh each word choice. Is it succinct and
descriptive? Use strong verbs and vivid nouns, the ones your character would
use. Have you chosen the best word in the character’s voice, one you’re
comfortable with? A writer’s genre also influences word choice. A lot to think
about, but when you tune out the critics and write the story of your heart with a
character you love (or love to hate), voice will be in your fingertips.

I went through several stages of forming my voice while following rules, not
following rules, then allowing my writing to morph into my voice. When I
concentrated on good writing and put the guidelines into perspective, aside, my
voice came. Note that what is appropriate for style, format, genre, and publisher
guidelines is not the same as exploring and finding your unique writer’s voice.
As Thomas Merton said, “Not all men are called to be hermits, but all men need
enough silence and solitude in their lives to enable the deep inner voice of their
own true self to be heard at least occasionally.”
The following areas are important to me. While they may not become part of
your writer’s voice, they’ll give you an example of the subconscious
development that is necessary to establishing your voice.
I’m a bare bones writer. I don’t like to read paragraphs of
description, so I don’t write them. I use humor sparingly and always
in character. I can be dark—or I can be flirty. Sometimes a character
requires a little more of what I avoid, so I have to weigh my
preferences with what the character’s telling me—then mix the two.
Sometimes all it takes is a single word or phrase to accomplish
voice.
I detest exclamation marks. I will stay up all night rewording scene
 and dialogue to eliminate that little bat and ball from the end of
sentences. I prefer using word choice, characterization, and the
scene’s mood to convey emotion. But if an editor believes it’s the
best choice, I will present my case…and together we’ll make a
decision for the sake of the story.
I use only said as a dialogue tag. It’s an invisible word. The only
other tag I might consider is whisper.
I don’t use asked as a dialogue tag. The punctuation mark and the
syntax show the sentence is a question. Why insult the reader by
telling them twice it’s a question.
I want my writing to be understood immediately. That means not
sending readers to the dictionary. Clarity with distinctive nouns and
verbs is more important than a word’s number of syllables.
I don’t use semicolons or colons in fiction.
I believe the use of italics for internal dialogue tosses the reader out
of the adventure.
I emphasize style, word choice, originality, and passion for the
project to establish individuality.
Don’t be afraid to be you. A distinct voice means having the confidence to allow
your personality to shine through your story. Outstanding writing comes from
composing one sentence after another. When a reader can say that only you
could have written that story, then you have established your voice.
Stretching
To help you develop your voice, work through each question and exercise.
What do you respect about your favorite writer’s work?
What makes her work distinctive?
What writing rules and guidelines are important to you?
What writing rules and guidelines do you consistently break?
What genre do you write? If you write historical romance and your
voice is dark, you need to alter your voice.
List ten items you are passionate about. For the next ten days, spend
fifteen minutes a day writing about each item. Close your eyes and
simply create, whether a story, an essay, a poem, a screenplay, a
blog, or a song.
 Use text-to-voice software to hear your work read aloud. Listen to
the rhythm. As a listener, are you engaged?

Chapter 18 - Building Your Editing Muscles You write to communicate
to the hearts and minds of others what’s burning inside you. And we edit to let
the fire show through the smoke.
—Arthur Polotnik

A dancer advances her career by practicing. Hours of it. She knows her
performance will not improve unless she’s committed to her art. A novelist
improves her craft the same way: the art of writing one word after another until
the story has been told in the best possible way.
Have you ever read something you wrote one year ago, six months ago, or
yesterday and cringed? Word choice, descriptions, characters, plotting, or setting
screamed back at you. We are always learning the craft. Our calling is not
limited to merely creating a draft manuscript; we must perform edits and
revisions. Our readers deserve our best, which means we cut the flab and build
muscle into our writing.
Consider revision an exciting challenge—an adventure to make your writing
more powerful. Look forward to it, because revision and editing provide an
opportunity to make your creation better—and eventually the best.
Edits and revisions mean hours of laboring until we have a sculptured piece we
are proud to submit. “Unwillingness to revise,” Sol Stein says, “usually signals
an amateur.”
I’ve met novice writers who said not one word of their work could be changed
because God had given them the manuscript. Obviously they didn’t need an
editor. Don’t be unteachable or you’ll never succeed in this business.
Penelope Stokes calls revision a humbling experience. But how much better for
the writer to catch any poor grammar, plot failures, and inconsistencies than an
editor who tosses our work back at us.
I highly recommend Self-Editing for Fiction Writers by Browne and King. You
can conquer bad habits and strengthen weak areas by following their guidelines.
We all have areas in which we can improve.
Approaches to Revision
Don’t try to revise while you write. Finish a scene, a chapter, or even the entire
story before switching to editor mode. Creating a story uses the left side of your
brain. Revision uses the right. While writing the first draft, you’re learning about
the story and its characters.
Only you can determine how many drafts your story needs. A critique group or
partner can help you see blind spots.
My routine is simple. Perhaps it will help you: I try to write strong copy.
Each morning I reread what I wrote the previous day and make
edits. I make notes after each scene indicating what clues or threads
I need to address before I complete the book. Some novelists use a
project journal.
After the first doorway or at about 20,000 words, I read the story to
ensure I’m being true to my premise and characters. I edit and make
notes.
Midway, after I’ve written a critical turning point, I repeat the
process.
When I’ve completed the first draft, I read the story for flow, often
doing intense editing. This is when I begin sending chapters to my
critique partners.
I let the story sit as long as possible, ideally two months. There is a
measure of perspective that comes only from allowing our
manuscripts to rest.
I use text-to-voice software for each chapter. This allows me to hear
the story, the flow of the plot, characterization, and sentence
rhythm. Sometimes I catch grammar and punctuation
inconsistencies.
I read the story one more time on screen—and then in hard copy.
Maybe more if I’m not satisfied.
A writer knows when she has achieved her best work.
Some writers prefer editing from hard copy, using various highlighters to point
out problems. I simply scribble notes on my printouts with a pen. You may
prefer a systematic approach, even doing separate reads for character, plot,
dialogue, and narration. No matter your approach, apply it thoroughly.
Editing Goals—Items I search for during self–editing
Active Voice
Activate your sentences. Often “to be” verbs indicate a passive sentence.
Exemplary writing uses vivid nouns and strong verbs. “As” and “-ing” words
can also mark a passive sentence.
Avoid Clichés
Create your own metaphors and similes—or give old ones a twist—using your
character’s traits and voice.
Beginnings
Be sure your story begins with the lead character’s name and her current
situation?
Chapter Hooks
Develop the best sentence to hook your reader into your story.
Characterization
Ask these questions about your hero, heroine, or protagonist.
What about them do you like or dislike?
Is there a positive and a negative trait that doesn’t belong?
If you were to spend a vacation with the hero or heroine, what about
the character would appeal to you?
Ask these questions about your villain or antagonist
Is the character truly evil or badly behaved?
What is the one trait that gives the character redeeming quality? As
Sol Stein says, no villain can attract victims unless he has charm,
charisma, or wealth.
Chronology
Use a calendar to keep track of your chapters. Try
http://calendarhome.com/tyc/#calendars
If your book is a period piece, make sure the historical aspects are factual.
Conflict and Tension
Reread every page, paragraph, and line to be sure conflict and tension are
present.
Consistency
Check spelling, especially names to be sure all are the same.
Determine if numbers: will be written in numeric form or spelled out and check
for uniformity.
Cut Extra Words
Be clear. Be willing to condense. Never use two or more words if one word
works.
Dialogue
All dialogue should be clear and tight.
Verify that all dialogue punctuation is correct.
 Determine which dialogue lines need a tag and or a beat.
Find and eliminate adverbs.
Review each dialogue to be sure the words are in character.
Emotional Conflict
Evaluate every paragraph and every line to see if you have included emotional
conflict.
Examine Plot
Ask the four crucial questions regarding each scene (see chapter seven).
Genre
Decide if your genre is clear. Consider how the story will feel to the reader
(creepy, brooding, inspirational)?
Grammar
Ascertain if you need a grammar guide; if so, invest in one. Look for dangling
participles and misplaced modifiers. Verify all punctuation.
Plot
Ask if you have kept your plot tight. Find any holes in the plot and tie up all the
threads.
Pronoun Preference
Check all pronouns to determine if the reader will immediately know what noun
the pronoun stands for?
Redundancy
Avoid repeated phrases. Don’t insult the reader by telling something more than
once.
Scenes
Rate every scene from one to ten. Delete or rewrite any below eight. Each scene
should propel the story, building conflict and tension. Make sure the first and
last lines are strong. Are the transitions smooth?
Sensory Perception
Check each scene for the presence of the five senses.
Series Order
Place one-syllable words first: beans, cabbage, and tomatoes instead of
huckleberries, pear, and a banana.
Count the number of words. List the shorter items first: He enjoyed green beans,
deep fried onion rings, and buttered corn-on-the cob.
If all the items have the same number of syllables, consider their place in the
alphabet.
Or consider chronological order, obvious sequence, familiar sequence, and
unintended modifiers.
Sometimes the way we’re used to hearing items contradicts these guidelines. If
the list doesn’t sound right, change the order.
—Lunch, dinner, and breakfast should be breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
—Cream and peaches should be peaches and cream.
—The bees and the birds (alphabetical sequence) should be the birds and
the bees.
—Gold, myrrh, and frankincense should be gold, frankincense, and
myrrh.
Setting
Research more than you think you will ever use. Fictitious towns are best. Map
out your town ahead of time, filling in street names, residential, business, etc.
How can the setting be antagonistic?
Vary Sentence Length
Read sentences aloud to hear the rhythm.
Word Choice
Confirm you’ve chosen the best words. William Shakespeare said, “Suit the
action to the word, the word to the action.”
Unintended Modifiers
Make sure your modifiers modify what you intend.
The bank of the long and winding river made a great site for a
picnic. (Correct) Long and winding, we shared a picnic on the river
bank. (Misplaced modifier)

Is your story filled with muscle? If not, head to the weight room. Your readers
will thank you, and your story will dance.
Stretching
What’s your personal method of editing? What suggestions from this
chapter might help you?
Print your story’s first chapter. Using the guidelines in this chapter, edit
your manuscript.

 Chapter 19 - The Tango of the Writing Life
Writing is the act of discovery.
—Natalie Goldberg

The writing life offers exciting challenges. But it’s also a lonely calling: the
writer, the computer, and God. We have goals and deadlines, and we’re
constantly working to improve our craft. Professionals instruct us to join writing
groups, find critique partners, attend conferences, and stay involved with social
media—all while we labor over our writing. So how do you juggle the demands
of writing with your life beyond the keyboard?
Boo Birds
Boo birds sit on the power lines of our lives and drop their stuff. Critique
partners, readers, editors, family members, friends, and professional critics all
have an opinion of what we do. And they are free with their questions and
advice.
How much money have you invested in your hobby?
Why aren’t you published?
I read your story. Good thing you have a job to pay the bills.
You’re out of control. We all agree you’re eccentric, bizarre, and
need meds.
You’re spending way too much time on something that won’t
happen.
Give it up. This is bad.
In weak moments, we ask ourselves if the goal of publication is worth the
sacrifice. Maybe we need to go back to a normal life, whatever that is.
How do you continue when encouragement is scarce? Reach back to why you
started writing. Do you view your passion for communicating the written word
as a calling? Is your desire to share your story with readers more powerful than
the opposition from critics? If you cannot not write, you need to ignore those
boo birds and keep working toward your goals.
Conferences, Writing Groups, and Critique Partners
Writing conferences help you learn new skills from professionals who know the
craft, the publishing business, and marketing and promotion. In a few days, you
can arm yourself with new techniques—and find motivation to continue. Some
conferences provide face-to-face meetings with mentors, agents, and editors.
Meeting other writers who share the same joys and trials helps you feel you’re
not alone. Many of those new friendships continue long after the conference.
Writing groups require a commitment from each member to give back. For those
writing for the Christian market, the Christian Writers Guild,
www.christianwritersguild.com, specializes in training writers on all levels. The
American Christian Fiction Writers, www.acfw.com, offers an online
community, a national conference, and local groups that meet monthly.
A critique partner can help us refine our manuscripts. But finding the right
partner is like searching for a new doctor. Not everyone is a good fit. Look for
someone with the same or higher skills who writes in your genre. Critique
partners who meet in person develop mutual trust and often become good
friends. Online critiquing helps battle the time crunch. I’ve done both. If a
situation stops working, for whatever reason, graciously resign. A sense of
responsibility is not a reason to continue in a critique relationship that no longer
has value.
Establish ground rules with a potential critique partner.
Will you meet online or in a scheduled place?
Is Skype an option?
How many pages will you exchange?
How many writers will be in the group?
Will the critiques be a line edit or a content edit?
What will be the turnaround time?
How will you handle a critique partner who consistently fails to
submit her work?
Industry
The publishing world is not for the fainthearted. To survive, writers must keep
adding to their skills. We take a deep breath and open our minds to the changes
in the publishing world so we can adapt with optimism.
Publishers add new genres and eliminate others.
Publishers merge and change ownership.
Methods of publication change.
 Payment formulas become more complex.
Self-publishing becomes more tempting.
Writers must take a greater role in marketing and promotion,
especially with social media.
The one thing that never changes is the value of quality writing. That’s our
number one job. We must write a novel that’s not just good, but outstanding.
Nothing else matters. If we are to stay in the game, our personal goal of writing
better every day becomes a necessity.
We’ll never fully understand how some writers are blessed with publication
while others—equally committed to quality writing, professionalism,
marketability, platform, and meeting a publisher’s needs—struggle to have their
work read by agents and editors. But a writer in tune with the publishing
industry understands persistence is her best partner.
We write—and we continue to submit—because we are writers.
Pay it Forward
Is there something more a writer can take from this book? Could there be a
surprise additive to the list of how to succeed in the world of publishing?
I believe so. In fact, I know so.
To be blessed, one must be a blessing to others. It’s simple. Biblical too. Has a
more successful writer taken you under her wing? Did that writer teach you
technique and recommend how-to books, workshops, and conferences? Was she
your nightmare editor and your best cheerleader? Did she: Take a personal
interest in you?
Brainstorm ideas and various ways to present your story?
Challenge you to write stronger?
Push you into social media?
Make you cry and then encourage you to keep writing?
If you had a mentor who loved you enough to not let you write garbage, you are
fortunate. I had a mentor, and now I am one.
Some veterans are willing to help a new writer who is committed to developing
the craft. Those people make time to ensure another rises to her full potential.
Both the mentor and the writer make sacrifices: time and effort. Rewrites.
Trudging through line edits.
If I ever think I’m too big to help a new writer, God may think I’m too small for
publication.
The Greeks understood the dynamics of mentoring. Nestled deep in their
mythology is the story of aging Mentor who imparted wisdom to Telemachus,
the son of Odysseus. The name came to mean someone who shared wisdom and
knowledge with someone less experienced—a faithful and wise adviser.
Think about your part in helping new writers. Do you want to teach others? Such
a commitment partners with one to educate ourselves in the craft. Time restraints
and family and job responsibilities may prevent you from participating. That’s
okay. Your current role may be simply to learn more about the craft. There are
other ways to give back, such as a critique group, a monthly writers group, or a
commitment to pray for new writers.
Kay Arthur said, “You have been created by God and for God, and someday you
will stand amazed at the simple yet profound ways He has used you even when
you weren’t aware of it.”
If supporting and encouraging writers is in your future, prepare for the rewards
of blessing others.
In the resource section, you’ll find guidelines for face-to-face and online critique
groups.
Priorities
Many times our other priorities stop us from writing. Writers who find
themselves juggling life and achieving little success with their commitments and
goals will abandon their calling. The answer lies in understanding principles for
organizing our lives.
Take inventory of what is important to you. Christians seek to place God on the
top rung. Our relationship with the Author of creation must come first, or we’ll
never experience peace of mind.
Second should be our family. These are the people entrusted to our love and
care. Life is about relationships, not how many books we’ve written or how
many times we’ve hit the bestseller list. What counts is leaving a living legacy
by showing our loved ones how much they mean to us.
Third is our day job. Writers often look forward to when they can write full-
time. Before you make that leap, ask yourself these questions: Can I write
outstanding manuscripts with the pressure of knowing that if the story doesn’t
sell, my family doesn’t eat?
Can I afford to buy medical insurance for my family without the
benefits of a full-time position?
 Will I earn as much or more through writing than what my day job
provides?
The fourth priority is your friends and your commitment to them. Ignoring
friendships for the sake of reaching any goal is selfish. Balance is the key.
Fifth comes your writing. In chapter one, we discussed finding time to write.
This includes every aspect of working as a writer. Consider your schedule and
commitments, then insert a time. My pastor says, “Obey immediately.” That
doesn’t mean we shake off our responsibilities until after we finish our blog.
Professionalism
Because writers are in the limelight, we have to look and act professional at all
times. Whenever I walk to the mailbox, I look my best. Laugh if you must, but
think about your neighbors or those driving by your house or the UPS driver
who all know you’re a writer. Begin to develop good habits that ensure you
present yourself appropriately. Your dress, makeup (if you’re a woman), and up-
to-date hairstyle mean you’ve left an excellent impression.
Business cards are your introduction. Just as you greet others with a smile, so
should your business card. Keep the card simple with your name and contact
information. A photo provides an added touch, if it’s been taken by a
professional photographer.
Platforms are an important marketing tool. If yours is weak, choose speaking
topics that reflect your uniqueness. Have a website designed that expresses your
genre and themes. Develop your speaking abilities through Toastmasters,
CLASSeminars, or a college class. At first, you may be speaking for coffee and
cookies, but you’re building a resumè. Create a blog in which you offer
something to readers—and collect email addresses.
Social media offer excellent ways to reach out to others. Choose what works best
for you. But realize social media is about them, not you. And remember,
everything you post remains in cyberspace forever. So think before you type.
You represent the next generation of writers. You are the one who will answer
the challenge of reaching others through the power of story. Readers are waiting
for you to pen the next word … and the next. The Dance of Character and Plot
—where will it take you?
 Resources
On the following pages are some templates to help you with writing and
critiquing. Use them freely to advance your skills.

Character Sketch

Moral premise of story
Story title
Genre
Character name
Meaning of Name
Temperament Type
Temperament type explanation
Character’s physical story problem
Character’s psychological problem(s)
Character’s Outer Landscape
Birth date
Nickname
Height
Weight
Complexion
Race
Nose
Ears
Eye color and shape
Body type
Positive distinguishing features
Imperfections
Physical illnesses or afflictions
Characteristic gestures/mannerism
Home—Where and describe
Education and where received
Occupation
Salary
Vocabulary
Skills, abilities, and talents
Interests/hobbies
Social status
Sense of humor
Joys
Pets
Favorite meal
 Establishing Character Motivation
Family background/birth order/lineage including ethnicity
Political views
Religious affiliation
How much does faith play in the character’s life?
What is your character’s spiritual turmoil?
Type and number of close friends
Best friend
How do your character’s family and friends view him or her?
What about life does your character appreciate?
If your character could be or do anything in life, what would it be?
What person or persons does your character admire?
Why?
Things that make your character uncomfortable or embarrassed
Traumas or scars from the past
What makes your character angry?
How does your character handle anger?
What are your character’s fears?
What is your character’s most painful experience?
What is your character’s biggest triumph?
What are your character’s weaknesses?
What are your character’s strengths?
 Twelve Tips for Writing Strong Character-Driven Dialogue
Characterization
Who is your character? What makes him tick? What has been her life journey?
Your role as a writer is to take the time to write the back story so you will know
what influences the way the character speaks.
Be a Good Wordsmith
This means showing and not telling. Avoid -ly words that reveal you haven’t
mastered powerful and vivid nouns and verbs.
Genre
Romance, sci-fi, suspense, western, fantasy, mystery, historical, and
contemporary use dialogue to reflect the story’s genre and theme.
Conflict and Tension
Conflict and tension pace your dialogue through believable conversations that
show different personalities responding to what is going on.
Dialogue Tags and Beats
Stick to the tag “said” when writing dialogue. Use it sparingly, only to denote
who is speaking. Beats are actions that surround dialogue. A tag is not necessary
when a beat shows the reader who is speaking. The goal of dialogue is for the
reader to know who is speaking by the character’s choice of words, emotions,
and body language—without the use of a tag or a beat.
Clear, Concise, and Credible
These three Cs of writing tight dialogue also apply for any type of writing.
Body Language
Up to 90 percent of our communication comes through body language. Use this
valuable tool to show character emotion.
Emotive Conflict
The reader expects the protagonist and antagonist to have heated conversations,
but also use this tool to show that friends can have conflicting emotions.
Picky Punctuation and Gritty Grammar
How you punctuate dialogue may make the difference between a sale and a
rejection. No editor wants to be buried by errors. Get a grammar and punctuation
guide, and use it.
Silence
Silence is an effective technique in dialogue. Use gestures and body language to
relate what the silent character is feeling. What counts isn’t what’s said, but the
effect of what’s meant.
Subtext
What does the character really mean? Dialogue that means only what is said fails
to mirror character emotions.
Panning for Gold
In writing witty dialogue you must sift through the words, actions, and body
language to find the rich nuggets that keep the reader turning pages—and the
sales up.
 Four Essential Plot Questions
1. What is the POV character’s goal or problem?
2. What does the POV character learn that he/she didn’t know
before?
3. What backstory is revealed? (Avoid backstory, flashbacks, or
protagonist’s flaws for the first approximately 50 pages) 4. How are
the stakes raised?
 Backstory
Inspired by
Writing the Breakout Novel Workbook by Donald Maass What happened in your
character’s life up to age twelve that affected who she is today?
What happened in your character’s life from ages thirteen to twenty
that affected who she is today?
What happened in your character’s life from ages twenty-one to
thirty that affected who she is today?
What happened in your character’s life one year before the story
opens?
Six months?
Six weeks?
Twenty-four hours?
One hour?
Ten minutes?
 Knowing Your Story
What is the premise of your book?
What is the hook sentence of your book?
What is the takeaway for the reader?
Who is your target audience?
What are three unique features of your book?
How is your book different from anything else out there?
Did you write the back cover copy of your book?
Why would you buy your book?
Guidelines for Face-to-Face Critique Groups Determine how many writers in
the group.
Establish a meeting place.
Establish manuscript format.1 inch margins
Double spacing
12 point Times New Roman or Courier New font
Header with automatic page numbering
Establish length of submitted manuscript.
Number the lines of the submitted manuscript.
Understand each member’s genre.
Submit polished writing as though each member is an editor.
Writer brings copies of manuscript for each participant.
Someone other than the writer reads the work aloud.
Writer is permitted a two minute lead-in before work is read.
Writer does not speak during the reading.
Each writer is given 15 minutes of critique time.
Participants will not interrupt the speaker.
Always thank the person who has given the critique.
Don’t take suggestions personally.
In making constructive criticism, use the Oreo method. Begin with a
compliment, make appropriate suggestions, then close with
encouragement. Honesty is critical, but unkind remarks are
forbidden. Harshness does not make a better writer.
Make specific suggestions. General comments do not help the
writer.
Address punctuation, flow, content, and credibility.
Critique according to writer’s ability/level of expertise.
Each member of the group is responsible for adhering to guidelines.
If a writer doesn’t submit her own writing, she shouldn’t critique
another’s work.
Enjoy the experience! This is a time to admire and respect your
peers.
 Guidelines for Online Critique Groups
Determine how many writers in the group.
Establish manuscript format.1 inch margins
Double spacing
12 point Times New Roman or Courier New font
Header with automatic page numbering
Establish length of submitted manuscript to be critiqued.
Establish a time when manuscript is submitted.
Establish deadline when critiques need to be returned to all
participants.
Understand each member’s genre.
Submit polished writing, as though each member is an editor.
Always thank the person who has given the critique.
Don’t take suggestions personally.
In making constructive criticism, use the Oreo method. Begin with a
compliment, add suggestions to make the manuscript better, then
end with encouragement. Honesty is critical, but unkind remarks are
forbidden.
Make specific suggestions. General edits or comments do not help
the writer.
Address punctuation, flow, content, credibility.
Critique according to writer’s ability/level of expertise.
Each member of the group is responsible for adhering to guidelines.
If a writer doesn’t submit her own writing, she shouldn’t critique
another’s work.
Enjoy the experience! This is a time to admire and respect your
peers.

 Suggested Readings
Character, Emotion, and Viewpoint by Nancy Kress Conflict and
Suspense by James Scott Bell
Dialogue by Gloria Kempton
Dynamic Characters by Nancy Kress
Elements of Fiction Writing: Conflict and Suspense by James Scott Bell
Fiction Attack! by James Scott Bell
Fiction Writing Demystified by Thomas Sawyer Goal, Motivation, and
Conflict by Debra Dixon How Fiction Works by Oakley Hall
How to Grow a Novel by Sol Stein
I Know What You Are Thinking by Dr. Lillian Glass, Ph.D.
Mastering Point of View by Sherri Szeman
On Writing by Stephen King
Plot and Structure by James Scott Bell
Revision and Self-Editing by James Scott Bell Self-Editing for Fiction
Writers by Renni Browne and Dave King Story by Robert McKee
Techniques of a Selling Writer by Dwight Swain The Art of Character by
David Corbett
The Art of War for Writers by James Scott Bell The Chicago Manual of
Style by The University of Chicago Press The Elements of Style by
William Strunk Jr. and E .B. White The Fire in Fiction by Donald Maass
The First 50 Pages by Jeff Gerke
The Moral Premise by Stanley D. Williams
The Power of Body Language by Tonya Reiman
The Writer’s Little Helper by Jim Smith
Word Painting by Rebecca McClanahan
Writing Dialogue by Tom Chiarella
Writing for the Soul by Jerry B. Jenkins
Writing the Breakout Novel by Donald Maass
Writing the Breakout Novel Workbook by Donald Maass
 Suggested Websites
Meyers-Briggs Personality Testing
http://www.humanmetrics.com/cgi-win/JTypes2.asp
OneLook Reverse Dictionary
http://www.onelook.com/reverse-dictionary.shtml
The Bookshelf Muse: The Emotion Thesaurus
http://thebookshelfmuse.blogspot.ca/p/ emotion-thesaurus.html 10,000-Year
Calendar
http://calendarhome.com/tyc/

 About the Author

Award-winning author DiAnn Mills is a fiction writer who combines an
adventuresome spirit with unforgettable characters to create action-packed,
suspense-filled novels. DiAnn’s first book was published in 1998. She currently
has more than fifty books published.
Her titles have appeared on the CBA and ECPA bestseller lists and have won
placements through the American Christian Fiction Writer’s Carol Awards and
Inspirational Reader’s Choice awards. DiAnn won the Christy Award in 2010
and 2011.
DiAnn is a founding board member for American Christian Fiction Writers and a
member of Inspirational Writers Alive, Romance Writers of America, and
Advanced Writers and Speakers Association. She speaks to various groups and
teaches writing workshops around the country. DiAnn is also a Craftsman
Mentor for the Jerry B. Jenkins Christian Writers Guild.
She and her husband live in sunny Houston, Texas.
Visit DiAnn’s website: www.diannmills.com
Follow DiAnn on:

www.facebook.com/diannmills
twitter.com/diannmills