Writing

Understanding Point-of-View

KWhipkey 7 Comments

POV. Love it or hate it, this is one of the most crucial decisions a writer makes. And yet, it often seems like writers overlook that fact, defaulting into whatever format they tend to read most. True, there’s something familiar and comfortable about mimicking a style you spend a large portion of your reading time in. But we’re not parrots, and choosing the right POV can make or break a story. It’s like the cinematography of literature, unseen and yet so incredibly crucial to the way you convey your tale. An invisible camera, it translates your ideas into images your viewers (readers in this case) can imagine. Whether it’s a sweeping panorama of landscape, or a close-up of your character’s soul, each style is specifically built to capture the mind’s eye in a variety of ways.

Why wouldn’t you want to put thought into how to wield a tool that powerful?

So let’s take a quick look at the various options, as well as their strengths and weaknesses, that way you can make educated choices about your next WIP: (Note, these will not talk about tense choice, as that opens a whole other can of worms. This is just the basic format for whose eyes we see through.)

First Person

May as well kick it off with the one that currently dominates a lot of genres. This one should be familiar to all of you — it’s the self-centered diva of the ball. In cinematography, this would be the camera that’s tethered to your character, perched on their shoulder like some kind of weird growth. It faithfully follows their every move and puts readers firmly in their heads. We experience what they do — their thoughts, their physical sensations, their fears and emotions, all of it.

The downside to using this format? Well, you’re stuck with that one character. Literally. The point of this POV is to let readers live vicariously as someone else. When you do your job well, they figuratively step into your character’s skin. Which means that they can only know what your character does. Want to show us what their potential lover is thinking when they stare at your MC? Too bad, you can’t. Want to clue us in to the nefarious plotting of your villain that’s taking place halfway across Fictitious-land from your leading man? Sorry. No can do.

Don’t get me wrong, First Person is a very powerful POV, but it’s limited. When deciding whether or not to use this one, look at the way your story is structured. Is it most effectively told from inside your character? Or do you want to be able to pull the camera back a little bit and show us more than just that character’s inner emotions?

Second Person

This is actually a fairly unusual POV, but you will occasionally stumble across it, more frequently in short stories than novels, though there are a few of those out there too. The cinematic version most akin to this would be a GoPro camera attached to your character’s head, where you’re literally shown the story through the character’s eyes. But not like the version seen in First Person. No, here, you never see the character’s face, because you are the character. This is my least favorite style of fiction because it always comes across as bossy. If First Person is the self-centered sibling, this is the bossy older sister who never lets you get away with crap.

Populated by an abundance of “you did this, you did that,” Second Person strives to get you to experience the story as if it were truly happening to you. The problem I have with it is a) I don’t like being told what to do, and b) it’s heavy-handed use of breaking the fourth wall (talking directly to the reader) actually makes immersion into the story that much more difficult. At least for me. I have seen it done well, but trust me, if you’re going to try this one, you better be a master storyteller. Not only is it extremely limited, but it takes a brilliantly light touch to achieve the escapism people are looking for when they read.

Third Person Limited

Another common one, this is the popular, people-pleasing twin to First Person, most frequently abused by those just starting out and often unappreciated for its generous gifts. The camera equivalent is the film style most often seen in video games. It follows a select character around, but at a slightly more respectable distance than that seen in First Person. Where First Person is all up in your character’s business, Third Person Limited is the quietly observing stalker in the bushes. You’re allowed to showcase more of the world outside of the character’s head, but also still allowed to show us their thoughts. But only their thoughts.

The key here is that “limited” tacked on to the end. Often, writers confuse the fact that they get to say things like “he did this” and “she said that” for the ability to jump between characters. But that’s incorrect, and is the biggest danger in using this style — head-hopping. Though you are most definitely outside of your character, you’re still tied to their movements. It’s a tight close-up or medium shot, not a free-roaming scenario that can pan across whatever part of the story you feel like. For that, you need . . .

Third Person Omniscient

Poor Third Person Omniscient is the wicked step-child. Once the favored style of fantasy and sci-fi authors everywhere, it now frequently falls beneath the mislabeled sword of head-hopping and is swiftly nixed from every manuscript. Except for a few stalwart authors in the know. Why the confusion? Because of the definition of that lovely “O” word in the title. “Omniscient” means that the narrator knows everything. This is the free-floating camera, disconnected from any one character and free to weave in and out of everyone’s thoughts at whim. This is actually the most versatile of the POVs, which also makes it the hardest to do effectively.

The trick to using this one is understanding the fine line between head-hopping and omniscient narrative (if you’d like me to go into further detail about this specifically, let me know in the comments, and I’ll do a separate post about it). Namely, you need to have a firm grasp on your characters and how to move the camera around effectively. The most visual example I can think of is where you watch a conversation between two or more characters in a movie and the camera switches back and forth between close-ups of each speaker.

Objective

Who here has never heard of this one at all? It’s okay. It’s not often talked about for some reason. To keep with our family analogy, Objective POV is the distant fourth cousin three times removed that you never knew you had. And there’s a reason — it’s hard. In Objective POV, you’re only allowed to impart the facts. That means no access to any of your characters’ heads. At all. No telling, no inner monologues, only observable details.

Have a bad habit of telling instead of showing? Try writing in this for awhile — it’ll break that habit real fast, because all you can do is show. Facial expressions, body language, physical details in the environment and characters’ appearances, these are the only tools you have to convey what your characters are thinking and feeling. In short, this is the literary equivalent of film. That same distance you feel between yourself and a movie? Yep, you’ll run into that here too, which is its biggest downfall — a lack of intimacy. But, when done well, this can be one of the more powerful writing tools.

So, there you have it, the five main POV choices. I’m sure some of you are wondering, if there’s an Objective POV, shouldn’t there be a Subjective one? You’re right, there is. It’s called the other four I listed. They’re considered subjective because all four allow you inside at least one character’s head. Satisfied?

This is by no means a detailed tutorial on how to wield each style effectively, but it does give you the basics of what each is good for, as well as what pitfalls you should be aware of. A good writer will experiment with all the tools at their disposal. Not every story will be best told in First Person, and not every character will shine in Third. So spend some time exploring the different techniques; the only thing it will do is increase your skill set. Make POV a conscious decision and gain one more level of control in your work. Understand how the camera moves, and you’ll gain a firmer grasp of storytelling in general. Humans are visual creatures, so use POV to help us see your story the way you do.

Any questions?

 

Featured From the Archives: The Different Types of Critiques

KWhipkey 3 Comments

This has always been one of my more popular posts, and I’m sure a lot of you still remember it (or are still stumbling on it — internet crumbs are awesome, aren’t they?). But there’s a reason I’m dredging it up from the archives this week — I have a similar post planned for next week that will expand on the ideas contained in this one, with a slight twist. So what better way to prep for that post, than to revisit the foundation for it?

Since this also happens to be one of my longer articles, I won’t waste too much time with an intro. I think the information contained below pretty much speaks for itself, no?

The Different Types of Critiques

By Kisa Whipkey

(Originally Posted on 6/14/13)

(Yes, I realize that’s frighteningly close to today’s date, and no, that was not done on purpose. 😉 )

Every writer knows there are varying levels of quality in the critiques they’ll receive. Some will be extremely helpful, offering ideas for fixing particularly troublesome areas, or finding plot holes/inconsistencies you missed during your 142 times reading the manuscript. Others will be glowing, fluff-filled ego strokes that feel amazing, but offer virtually no help. Still others will be harsh, brutal, and make you want to curl up in a hole, never to write again. And the worst part is, you can never predict which type you’re going to get. Sometimes the horrible, hate-filled ones come from the people closest to you, and the fluff-filled ego strokes come from the professionals you’d expected to tear it to pieces. So how are you supposed to deal?

The most common advice you’ll receive is to simply “grow a thicker skin.” But that’s right up there with “show, don’t tell” and “kill your darlings” in terms of prosaic, vague responses that ultimately provide no help at all. Instead, I suggest learning the various categories of critique, that way you’ll know instantly what you’re dealing with and whether or not to pay it much mind.

(Disclaimer, these are not official categories. They are completely fabricated by me, and therefore, contain the appropriate amount of tongue in cheek — lots.)

The Fanboy/Fangirl

These are the ego-flatterers. The “OMG!!!! I LOVED IT! SQUEEEEE!” type critiques we all secretly want to receive by the millions. But as much as they puff our chests with pride, they actually aren’t very helpful. Once you come down off your pedestal of hot air and strip away the loudly screamed outpouring of emotion, you realize that you’ve learned absolutely nothing of value. Except how awesome you are, and you already knew that, didn’t you?

A helpful critique, even a glowing one, should tell you why — why they loved it, what they identified with, what the strong points were. But the overwhelming, star-struck gushing of love from a Fanboy/Fangirl doesn’t usually contain a shred of this. You have their reaction to your work (and probably a new stalker), but you don’t have anything you can take away and replicate in your new project. So at the end of the day, soak up the adoration, but know that these kinds of critiques are fairly worthless.

The Thinly Veiled Swap Request

Similar to a Fanboy/Fangirl critique, these will include a generally positive diatribe of how brilliant you are and how you’re the best author they’ve ever read ever, and oh, by the way, would you read and critique their story now too, please? Yep, the Thinly Veiled Swap Request is really just a bait and switch. A cleverly positioned “I scratched your back, now you scratch mine, because you owe me.” You’ll usually see these kinds of critiques on public writing sites like Wattpad, Figment, and Authonomy, where the popularity system relies on the number of favorable reviews (or hearts) a story gets. These requests are vaguely insulting and usually best ignored. Upon close inspection, many will reveal that the person asking for a return critique hasn’t truly read your work at all. So be careful with these ones. Don’t fall for the fluff.

Your Mom (a.k.a. Friends and Family)

No, that’s not meant to be a badly worded “Your Mom” joke.  (I can’t believe you would think that of me! 😉 )

One of the scariest groups of people to share your work with are those closest to you. I’m sure it stems from the fact that they are close to you, and we tend to trust them over strangers. But that’s a double-edged sword. How many people really believe their mom won’t wax poetic over everything they’ve created, even if it’s the worst thing on the planet? She loved your stick-figure blobs and macaroni/toilet-paper-roll art, didn’t she? Yeah, exactly. Now, tell me again why you’re worried she’ll hate something you’re hoping people will pay for?

This category is its own special blend of helpful and unhelpful. Chances are good that even though you’re more terrified of showing your friends and family your work than having your wisdom teeth removed, these reviews will generally come back positive. Even if they hate it, these are the people that love you, so they’ll pull their punches. Which is also what makes this batch of reviews hard to trust. Instinctively, we do, because we value their input, but that can lead to a skewed perspective if we’re not careful.

The best approach is to bask in the positivity, but then cull the review for anything valuable. Surprisingly, this is where you’ll get your first truly helpful tidbits, as these readers are comfortable enough with you to point out potential plot-holes or problems with your story. Just make sure you keep your ears open and take the criticism graciously. You do have to live with them, after all.

The Critique Partner

Every writer should have at least one of these. Seriously! Every. Writer.

Critique Partners are an amazing blend of friendship and writing ability. Typically writers themselves, these are the people you can be your absolute strangest with. The people who won’t just smile and nod when you start talking about your characters like they’re real people, but actually join in! They understand all your writerly eccentricities because they have them too. But the best part about a critique partner is that they’ll give you brutally honest, valuable feedback. Of all the critique categories, listen closest to this one. Critique Partners are a step away from the professionals, and their suggestions are usually right. They can be the difference between handing an editor the equivalent of dog-poo and a beautiful, ready-to-publish masterpiece.

The Aspiring Writer Knock-down, Drag-out

All right, on to one of the less happy styles of critique. The Aspiring Writer Knock-down, Drag-out is a particularly nasty one. Stemming from insecurity and a fear that success is a limited resource, this critique will unfairly rip your work to shreds in an effort to beat you to the finish line. Most writers don’t fall into this category. Most of us are genuinely friendly and want to help our fellow authors succeed. But there are those out there with superiority complexes that thrive by tearing others down.

The worst part about these is that they come from people who sound knowledgeable. These insidious, evil creatures are armed with an intimate familiarity of the writing process, and they’ll attack your work at its core. The key to surviving one of these critiques is to see past the intentionally hurtful language and look for something positive you can use to grow. Don’t listen to the individual words, but look at the overall viewpoint. If they’re going after your character development with a butcher knife, consider that might actually be a weak spot in your story and use that clue to improve. The best way to defeat a bully is not to give them any power, so turn their negativity into something good that helps you, or ignore them completely. (Easier said than done, I know.) Politely thank them for their feedback and then go home and stab the voo-doo doll you made of them in the eye.

The Editing Writer

This is another insidious type of critique that masquerades as helpful. These reviewers assume that because they’ve written some drafts of novels, or some short stories that were well-received in school, they’re qualified to offer feedback as an editor. But that’s a slippery slope to go down. Not every writer is a good editor. And not every English degree equates to mastery of storytelling. Writing and Editing really are two completely different skill sets. Some writers, like me, genuinely do possess both. (You’ll be able to tell by the solid feedback that can be easily verified against known writing rules.)  But it’s not as common as you would think.

Usually, these critiques will try to rewrite your work. They’ll be couched in personal preferences and will try to get your writing style to conform to theirs, citing made-up rules and questionable storytelling approaches. A good editor will preserve an author’s voice, offering suggestions that strengthen it rather than try to replace it with their own. Take these critiques with a grain of salt. Likely there will be some beneficial morsels regarding areas that need work, but find your own path. Don’t necessarily take theirs.

The Grammar Nazi

Who doesn’t love a good Grammar Nazi? These people go through your work and pick it apart punctuation by punctuation. Their review will consist entirely of technical suggestions and pretentious gloating over every mistake you made. It will feel like you’ve suddenly been sent back to your least favorite English class, with dangling participles, evil adverbs and misplaced commas haunting your every move. But as horrible as it can feel to be schooled by a Grammar Nazi, these critiques are actually helpful. They did just flag all the really technical stuff that needs fixing, after all. So, as painful as it is, listen to these people. Someone has to be the Grammar Nazi, and thankfully, now it doesn’t have to be you.

The Beta Reader 

Next to the Critique Partner, the Beta Reader is probably the most hailed tool writers turn to. However, they are not the same as a professional editor. Don’t be fooled by their lengthy reports and the marked-up manuscript they hand you. These critiques fall under a wide range of possibilities on the helpfulness scale. A conglomeration of every category I’ve listed above, their feedback can range from exceedingly helpful, to downright missing the mark. So your best strategy is not to rely on any single one.

The beauty of Beta Readers is that they’re most valuable in groups, like a pack of wolves or a pride of lions. (Yes, those are meant to be slightly ironic choices. Though Beta Readers are best in large numbers, they’re also more likely to corroborate the things you didn’t want to hear when in a group, tearing your book apart limb by limb.) Take the feedback provided by one and compare it with that from others in the group, looking for the recurring things that consistently pop up. Those are the problems you might want to consider addressing. The rest? Well, that could be anything from personal preference to Grammar Nazi, Fanboy/Fangirl to the Editing Writer, or even, God forbid, the Aspiring Writer Knock-down, Drag-out. In other words, take it with a grain of salt.

The Structural Editor

Now we start to get to the really meaty types of reviews. The ones you’ll receive from the professionals if you’re lucky. And from the freelance professionals if you’ve got money. 😉

Structural editing focuses on the actual elements of storytelling, the underlying framework of your story. Critiques of this type will talk about things like character/world development, pacing, dramatic tension and suspense, to name a few. They won’t go into detail on the mechanics of writing, but will go into heavy detail about what’s working and what isn’t, and most importantly, why. This is one of the most valuable critiques you’ll receive during the pre-publication phase. Often, your book won’t go to press until the issues found by a Structural Editor are taken care of. So they’re definitely good people to pay attention to.

The Copy/Line Editor

Right up there with the Structural Editor is the Copy/Line Editor. Where the Structural Editor’s domain is everything storytelling, the Copy/Line Editor lords over all things technical. Similar to the Grammar Nazi, but with a bit less pretension, the Copy/Line Editor will go over your manuscript with a fine-toothed comb (and this handy little thing called a Style Guide — an editing bible, so to speak), providing valuable suggestions on everything from word choice to sentence phrasing to punctuation usage. These people are masters of the English language and will help you refine your work into it’s most clarified form. Also similar to the Structural Editor, they tend to stand between you and your final goal of publication, so it’s wise to listen to their advice.

The Reader Review

This is the holy grail of critiques. Ideally, the Reader Review is a coveted blend of Fanboy/Fangirl, Your Mom, and the Structural Editor. The best ones will go into detail about what they loved and why, convincing other readers of your awesomeness without you having to lift a finger and providing insight into what you should include in your next book. But, though these are the reviews that matter most, they can vary widely in quality. Readers are just that, readers. They won’t have the expertise that some of the other critique categories do, nor will they try to sugarcoat their thoughts. You can get everything from a Fanboy/Fangirl reaction, to the complete opposite — the Hateboy/Hategirl (Yes, I totally made that up, but it could be a thing, right?) — to everything in between.

A lot of writers recommend not even reading these reviews, as the negative ones will undermine every shred of self-confidence you have. But if you don’t know why your book is bombing, how will you know what not to do in the next one? I think you should periodically check up on what people have to say, just don’t obsess over it. (Again, easier said than done, right?) Negative reviews happen, and the internet allows people to be far less civil than necessary, but regardless of whether it’s good or bad, the Reader Review trumps everything else. So it’s smart to pay attention to it.

The important lesson here is that feedback of any kind is good. Even the worst review can be helpful, once you learn how to see past the negativity. (There’s that darned thick-skin requirement again.) No matter what, thank the person for giving their time to your work, and for bothering to review it. Receiving a bad review hurts, but I can imagine nothing worse than receiving absolutely no feedback at all. I’d rather hear that someone felt passionately enough about my work to voice their thoughts, even the nasty, hurtful ones, than fade away into obscurity to a symphony of crickets. Wouldn’t you?

Featured From the Archives: What’s in a Name?

KWhipkey 2 Comments

My muse failed me this week. Like straight-up turned tail and ran, laughing maniacally as she went. So I apologize for once more having to cull something interesting from the archives. I promise, there will be new material next week. Even if I have to drag my muse, kicking and screaming, from her beach sanctuary and duct tape her skinny butt to the chair. It will happen.  In the meantime, here’s a snarky look at every writer’s favorite task — naming things. Enjoy!

What’s in a Name?

By Kisa Whipkey

(Originally Posted on 6/29/12)

 

Maybe I’m part Fey, or maybe I’m Rumpelstiltskin’s great-granddaughter, but I believe names are extremely important. Probably because I’ve been graced with a somewhat unusual name myself. Wait, did I say graced? I meant cursed. Doomed to endure countless mutilations, including: “Keisha,” “Kissah,” “Kye-sha”, and my favorite, just plain old “Lisa,” because obviously that “K” has to be a typo. There was even an unfortunate incident where, after explaining the spelling of my name as “Lisa, with a K,” the person responded with, “okay, Ms. Withakay, will there be anything else?” Seriously! No joke. So now, I actually do give my name as “Lisa” at fast food places, or anywhere they’ll be calling it out randomly, because it’s just easier. As long as I remember I’m answering to that. And who knows, Lisa Withakay might just make an excellent pen-name someday. Everyone needs a good alias, right?

For the record, my name is pronounced “Key-saw.” Difficult, isn’t it? But I respond to pretty much any variation thereof, as evidenced above. I think I already mentioned that it’s Russian for kitten, didn’t I? Well, it is, as confirmed by several people I’ve met who actually speak Russian. And no, I’m not Russian, nor is anyone in my family tree that I’m aware of. German, English, a little Scottish, yes. Russian? Sadly, no.

So how did I end up with this charming, pain-in-my-ass name?  Let’s just say this is what happens when soon-to-be parents stumble on those lovely little baby-name books in the bookstore. And trust me, after seeing the other options my parents had circled, I ended up with the best one. As much as it has irritated me over the years.

Anyway, back to the topic at hand — names.

Finding a title for a work can be the hardest part, whether it be a novel, a masterpiece of art, or a choreographed routine. It’s one of the first impressions your audience will get, so it has to accomplish a lot of things: summarize the plot, theme, and overall tone; provide something catchy that will make your work stand out among the masses; create a lasting impression that’s easily remembered; and build a sense of mystery and intrigue about your work’s content. All in just a few short words. No wonder many people find the process of naming a daunting task.

For me, this is a critical part of the creative process, and often, I have a title before I have anything else. Naming something is my favorite part. It’s the moment when whatever I’m working on becomes a thing of substance, its existence clicking into place like the final piece of a puzzle. It’s no longer just a vague concept floating around in my head — it’s a declaration of identity. And I rarely change a title once I’ve found it, whether it’s on a story, an image, or a character.

Others aren’t so lucky, struggling under the burden of working titles or simply leaving something as “Untitled.” And still others completely miss the mark, dubbing their spectacular work with a lame, uninspired title that dooms it to obscurity forever. They say you shouldn’t judge a book (or artwork, or choreography, etc) by its cover, but the truth is, everyone does. And the title is as crucial to your work’s success as the rest of the packaging. How often have you picked a book off the shelf solely for its title and cover art? Or browsed Itunes and found new artists because their album covers looked cool? Or rented a movie because it had an interesting name? And how often have you done the opposite? Scoffing at something because of a lame title, stupid cover, or lackluster blurb? I think you see my point.

So, what’s in a name? Everything!

Which is why you should spend as long as it takes to create the perfect title for your piece, whatever it may be. I’m afraid there aren’t any sure-fire techniques I can share for how best to choose a title, though. I’m sure there are others out there who would gladly try to tell you the correctness of their own process, but I believe creativity is too personal for that, and every artist, dancer, martial artist, writer, musician, has to find their own way of doing things. What I can offer you is a succinct version of how I go about it.

I remember reading somewhere, (and I apologize that I don’t have a direct quote for you), during my research of Disney’s story process, that they try to sum up each film’s plot in a single sentence. Being the complete fangirl I was back then, I thought that was a brilliant idea and adopted it for myself. It’s actually a lot harder than it seems to boil a complicated premise down to a simple sentence, but eventually, you get good at it. How does this pertain to titles? Well, once you can summarize your work with a single phrase (and this generally works best for writing, although it can apply to the concepts of art and choreography too), you can take it one step further and chop it down to only a few words. Something that single-handedly conveys the heart of your piece to your audience. Sometimes, that will be the name of your main character; sometimes, it will be an integral theme central to your work; and sometimes, it will be a metaphor summarizing the subtler messages you’re trying to convey. There are no hard and fast rules. The important thing is that it be inseparable with the larger work.

As an example, I’ll dissect the names of my three published short stories and show you the thought process behind them.

The Bardach was named for the race Amyli (Nameless) comes from. They’re a central key to that world because they have the link to its gods. All the conflict revolves around them fighting against the Mages who want to destroy that link and corrupt the gods for their own purposes. Since they are essentially the heart of the story, it seemed fitting to name it after them. Plus it’s a short, interesting title that might make someone click on the link, buy the magazine, or read the excerpt.

(2014 UPDATE: The rewrite of this story now goes by the name Kindred, as it’s a more character-driven, dual POV version that centers around the main character, rather than the culture. When its released, you’ll see. It’s been completely stripped down and rebuilt into what feels almost like an entirely different story, hence the need for a new name. The thought process I went through to choose the name, however, is the same as outlined above. 😉 )

Spinning has a more complicated meaning. It refers to the sect of people Taylor becomes part of, but it also refers to the ability to morph time that they all have, so named because it literally spins the world around them. It also refers to the emotional turmoil Taylor feels throughout, as his world is completely turned upside down, inside out, and sideways. He’s left with a confusing mess of half-answered questions, and is emotionally off-kilter for the entire story — spinning, as it were. It’s also a subtle tip-of-the-hat to the inspiring song by Jack’s Mannequin of the same name. Most of these connotations a reader wouldn’t grasp until after they’re read the piece (and some they might never know), but it adds layers to the title for them to discover along the way. Plus, it’s short, to the point, and hopefully mysterious enough to draw someone in.

Confessions has a dual meaning. It actually does refer to the characters confessing hidden truths, so it’s perhaps one of the more literal titles I’ve used. The thing that makes it interesting is its mysteriousness.  Its vague meaning hopefully makes a reader want to know what’s being confessed and would get them to buy the story to find out. But it’s multi-layered enough that they’ll get the full meaning only at the end. I can’t disclose much about this one without giving away spoilers, so I’ll just say that the obvious confession (Constia’s) isn’t the only one the reader comes across. Plus “Confessions” seemed like the perfect title for a story about losing faith.

Now, my process may not be your process, and that’s perfectly okay. The goal here was to get you to reconsider your approach to titles. The lesson in the above examples is that what appear to be simple one or two word statements, are actually layered with meaning and perfectly embody the message of the piece. Which is the ultimate goal of a title, isn’t it? (If you answered “no” to that, then I think you seriously need to reappraise your opinions of titles, and why did you bother to read this whole huge novel of a post? Just saying.) However you go about finding your names, the important thing to remember is that they are just that — important. Don’t spend months or years of your life on a project and then give it a half-assed name. You poured part of yourself into that thing! Give it enough respect to name it accordingly. You’ll be surprised how effective a marketing tool a simple title can be. It may just be the difference between massive success and complete failure. And I don’t know about you, but when so much hangs on a single decision, I think it deserves a few extra moments of my time to get right.

Featured From the Archives: Plot Bunnies; Friend or Foe?

KWhipkey 5 Comments

Now that we’re officially into the second year of Nightwolf’s Corner shenanigans, I think it’s time to dredge up another post from the archives. And since last week’s stats rundown showed this fluffy little guy was languishing in the Basket of the Unwanted, I thought, why not dust it off and let it hop its way back up the popularity charts. (Yikes, could I have stuffed any more rabbit puns into that sentence? Clearly, my snark-fund is running low this week.)

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this sarcasm-fueled look at a plague writers know all too well,  complete with my somewhat lame strategy for how to deal with them.
 

Plot Bunnies; Friend or Foe?

By Kisa Whipkey

(Originally Posted on 5/18/12)

 

Firstly, what the heck is a plot bunny? According to Urban Dictionary, it’s “an idea for a story (usually referring to Fanfiction [writing your own version of someone else’s story]) that gnaws at the brain until written.”

I stumbled upon this amusing little moniker while reading through the blog of one of my favorite authors, Maggie Stiefvater (check her out, she’s very entertaining). I’d never heard the term before, not being prone to write stories featuring other people’s characters/worlds. I mean, really, why would I want to mooch off someone else’s ideas when I’m drowning in hundreds of my own? Literally, hundreds. But anyway, I found the term endearing and adopted it. So you’ll hear me refer to plot bunnies quite a bit. Which prompted this post. Before I started throwing that term around and no one would know what I was talking about, I figured I’d better explain it.

Despite their adorable name, I actually define plot bunnies as procrastination and fear-of-failure personified. Every writer suffers from them. Usually, when you least want them around. And if you aren’t graced with their obnoxious presence, well, then, good for you. You’re one of the lucky few, and probably a bit inspirationally challenged. The rest of us carry around overflowing cages, bursting to the brim with plot bunnies that breed like, well, bunnies. Every so often, a few will make a run for it, escaping from their confinement to wreak havoc in whatever project we’re currently bordering on boredom with, and completely distracting us from anything productive until we wrangle them back into a newly-constructed, extra cage, and the process starts all over again. (Whew! That was a long one. Is there some kind of award for that?)

So, are they friend, or foe? I’ve found that it really depends on the day. Some days, (like those rare moments between projects when you can step away from your computer and realize the world actually still exists), they can be your best friend, bringing you bright, shiny paths of freshly minted inspiration and leading you ever closer to the coveted title of “prolific.” Other days, (like when you’re in the middle of an important, complex, pulling-teeth kind of scene that you’d rather jump in front of a bus than write), you really just want to take them out back and shoot them in the head.

This week, they’re heading toward being on my kill list. They’ve gotten decidedly more rampant since I finally figured out where my aimless work-in-progress (aptly and ironically titled Unmoving) was going. In the past two months alone, I’ve had 8 of the little buggers spring up . . . oh, nope, better make that 9. (Stupid radio, playing random-song-I’ve-never-heard-before and spawning yet another plot bunny.) Some are more demanding than others, requiring my complete attention and blocking out any hope of moving Unmoving forward. Others are just a tiny glimmer of an idea, a baby bunny shyly showing its whiskers for the first time. But all of them are extremely annoying.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful to be drowning in overflowing inspiration. But when you suffer from a distinct lack of ability to finish anything, prolific ideas only get you so far. Maybe I have writer’s ADD, growing bored with projects well before they’re done and becoming easily distracted by the shiny new fur and whispered promises of plot bunnies. Or maybe I just have a hard time sticking with something that, for me, has been finished for months, and continuing to write it feels like sludging my way through a movie I’ve seen 8 million times. (There are many days I fervently wish my brain had a USB port and a download button. That would make life so much easier! Wouldn’t it?) Or maybe I’m just lazy, and completing a story on paper, to the level my perfectionist side demands, requires far more work than I really want to expend. Whatever my problem, plot bunnies equal bad news.

How do I deal with them? Since they’re a figment of my imagination, I can’t really take them out back and kill them. Well, I could, but that might make me a candidate for the title of Schizophrenic Bunny Murderer. Besides, I’ll need those shiny new ideas when I finally finish my current project, (or when I can’t stand it anymore and move on, adding yet another unfinished story to my Drawer of Fragments). You never know, one of those cute little fur-balls driving me insane might just land me on the NY Times Bestseller List. Eventually. Someday. If I can ever finish something again.

No, my strategy for dealing with plot bunnies isn’t violent at all. I actually humor them. I give them their moment in the spotlight and let them rule the creative half of my brain, until eventually, they run themselves into exhaustion and shut up. Sometimes, it only requires giving the new idea a title, solidifying it into existence by the sheer power of naming it. Other times, I have to write the whole plot in my head, complete with character bios, description and dialogue. And recently, one super annoying bunny decided I had to pinpoint the exact, and very real, setting before it’d leave me in peace.

Eventually though, they do all quiet down. I can then add them to my ever-growing to-do list of ideas (seriously, at last count I had 164 potential stories, including the 9 that just popped up) and return to the task at hand — the grueling process of moving Unmoving closer to completion.

So my advice to writers debating whether or not to turn their plot bunnies into new fur coats is this; try giving them the reins for just a short period of time. Do whatever it is that will satisfy that insatiable urge to follow them down the rabbit hole. Whether it be my method, or (as I’ve seen suggested by other authors) writing a short story/synopsis of the premise, or something else of your own creation, I promise, they do eventually shut up and let you work.

And let’s face it, until you learn what your particular method for dealing with them is, you’re probably going to find yourself as unmoving as my current project.

"Bunny--Better Quality" by Vic-the-Raccon

“Bunny–Better Quality” by Vic-The-Raccoon

Copyright 2012

The Writing Process Blog Hop: Take Two

KWhipkey 10 Comments

Before you start, yes, I know I’ve already written a post about this. But Jon over at Jumping From Cliffs (you should totally check him out! His posts are full of dry wit and helpful advice) tagged me again, this time as a writer. What do I mean, “this time”? Well, if you recall, the last post was morphed slightly to impart my views on the process as an editor. Not necessarily my views as a writer. But, contrary to how it may seem, I am actually still a writer. Editing may have taken over my life, and I may often feel like I’m trying to bail out my sinking schedule with a spoon, but that doesn’t mean I’ve given up on my writing. In fact, quite the contrary.

So Jon has graciously given me a second chance to participate in the blog hop, not as freelance editor extraordinaire, or even Editorial Director for REUTS Publications, but as just little old me, the author.

How does it work? It’s really quite simple: I answer the following four questions and then send you off to read about some truly amazing folks. And trust me, the four I’ve chosen each have something unique to offer that you won’t want to miss.

But first, the questions:
 
1) What are you working on?
 
I already spoke about Unmoving in that previous post. So, rather than repeat myself, I’ll talk about the series it’s part of as a whole. (If you want to find out more about Unmoving specifically, simply click here.)

Unmoving is the first in a long urban fantasy series (I think I’m up to about 15 plot bunnies) that I’ve dubbed The Synchronicity Series. For those unfamiliar with the term, “synchronicity” is a psychological theory developed by Carl Jung. In it’s simplest definition, it means you find meaning and connection between two seemingly unrelated events. This concept is the foundation of the series, making its presence in the series name an obvious, yet essential, choice.

Each book technically stands alone. Unlike other series, there’s no common character, or place, or even theme linking them all together. How is that a series? Hold on, you’ll see. Instead of the usual conventions that link a book to its sequels, I use the principle of synchronicity. Each book contains at least one Easter egg, what I’ve been calling a jump-off point, a place where the various plots in the series momentarily intersect. It could be a brief encounter on the street, a phone conversation someone overhears, or even something seen along the road, but somewhere in each book, you’ll meet the main character of the next one. The characters all lead completely separate lives, so to each, the jump-off point is an irrelevant, unrelated event in the grander plot of their story (one you’ll get to see from both sides), but to the reader, it has meaning. If you’re willing to look for it.
 
2) How does your work differ from others in the genre?
 
Aside from what I just outlined? Hmm, that’s a hard one.

I suppose I would say that my work tends to be very multilayered and complex. It’s never just one genre. I tend to pull from several — fantasy, horror, thriller, mystery, etc. — to make one strange and twisted blend. Then I’ll infuse that with another layer of psychological torture and a dash of cinematography. I’ve always said that I don’t write like a writer. I write like a film director. So I think, (well, hope) there’s a definite cinematic feel to my generally somber stories.

But even though my work is classified as dark, there’s always a ray of hope laced through it. And there’s always a message buried somewhere. Nothing pretentious or preachy, just something subtle that I hope readers will pick up on and that will give them pause to think.

Does that qualify as different? You tell me. 😉
 
3) Why do you write what you write?
 
Honestly? Because I don’t know how to write anything else. As a reader, my tastes are as varied as they come. But when it comes to writing, only one thing comes out — dark fantasy. Fantasy has always been my go-to genre of choice, and until recently, it was more of the high/dark fantasy variety. I never expected to branch off into urban or paranormal. So maybe that’s a good sign. Maybe I’m not as rigidly defined as I think. I do suspect that I’ll always stay somewhere within the speculative fiction genres though, as trying to create a contemporary novel literally boggles my mind. I truly don’t understand how its done, how you create tension and conflict without the aid of something supernatural. (The fascinating part is that I totally get it when it comes to editing. It’s only my writer half that’s completely baffled by it.)

Maybe that makes me a little dense as a writer, but I choose to think of it as self-knowledge. I know exactly what I’m meant to write, so why bother trying to force something different?
 
4) How does your writing process work?
 

I actually wrote an overly detailed version of this about a year and a half ago: How Does She Come Up With This Stuff?

But the short answer, for those that don’t want to sludge through that previous post, is music. I have a very strong connection with music (as most writers do) and literally everything I do creatively stems from it. The core story idea directly correlates to the song that inspired it, although I seem to have a distinct gift for taking even the happiest, sweetest songs and making them dark and twisted. (Unmoving being the prime example. It was inspired The Script’s “The Man Who Can’t Be Moved”.)

I’m not a big outline person, though I do tend to write very linearly. So once I have an idea, I only create the bare minimum in terms of a road-map. I’ll block in the scenes on a spreadsheet, with only a few words to summarize the goal. This allows the writing to remain very organic, while still progressing steadily toward the final point of the tale. Technically, I suppose I fall somewhere between a pantser and a plotter, since I like to have a sense of direction, but also like to be surprised by the details that appear as I’m writing.

That concludes my portion of today’s program. Now, I get to introduce you to four of my favorite people:
 
Priya Kanaparti: Author of Dracian Legacy, Priya is a ray of sunshine. Seriously. There’s something about her voice that feels warm and happy, even when she’s writing the most heart-wrenching scenes. Her enthusiasm for life is infectious, and she’s probably one of the sweetest people you’ll ever meet. She’s also extremely determined and focused. Her regimented writing schedule leaves me in awe. I’m sure she’s got a few tips and tricks we could all benefit from, so be sure to check out her writing process in the next few days!
 
Drew Hayes: Drew is one of the funniest people I know. His posts are full of sarcasm and brilliantly wicked analogies that have me laughing out loud on a regular basis. Author of several self-published works, including a serial web novel, and the upcoming The Utterly Uninteresting and Unadventurous Tales of Fred, The Vampire Accountant, Drew has experienced all the various forms of publication. His latest experiment — live-writing a novel during the month of April — is one you definitely won’t want to miss!
 
Cait Spivey: Fellow editor, and newest member of the REUTS Publications family, Cait has plenty of insight to offer. Author of the serial short story I See the Web, as well as several NA novels, she also bridges the fence between writing and editing. Her blog features a lot of helpful articles on writing and publishing, and I highly recommend it. She shares a lot of the same viewpoints I do, so if you enjoy Nightwolf’s Corner, you’ll find a lot to love in Cait’s work too. 😉
 
Summer Wier: Summer is one of the most genuine, supportive people I’ve ever met. She’s also a brilliantly gifted writer. Her debut YA novel is currently making the querying rounds, but she’ll have three short stories in the REUTS Publications anthology of retold fairy tales releasing this fall. Her posts range from book reviews to personal experiences in the writing world, but the one thing contained throughout is her signature wit and humble honesty. So definitely show her the love she gives to the writing community and check her out!
 
And, of course, be sure to stop by Jumping from Cliffs. Jon has been one of my favorite bloggers for a long time now, and his quick wit never disappoints.
 
Andrew Toynbee is another person I’ve had the pleasure of getting to know, as we (along with Jon) started blogging around the same time. He, too, is participating in the blog hop, and his post is nothing short of epic. So if you’re looking for even more writer awesomeness, be sure to check it out!

Next week, I’ll have something insightful and snarky for your reading pleasure. What that will be? I don’t know yet. So if you have a request, now’s a great time to let me know. 😉 Until then, happy reading!