Write right - Livre

Livre de Kendall Haven qui parle de Raconte des histoires qui sont captivantes. Le livre enseigne aux professeurs comment enseigner le Copywriting & Storytelling aux élèves.

Lien : Storytelling mindset

Highlights

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Students don’t include detail because they haven’t created the detail to include, because they began writing the story before they could vividly imagine, in multisensory detail, the story and each character.

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The general problem with these two lists of complaints is that they don’t facilitate corrective action. If you tell a student writer to add more description and detail to their story, two questions will flash through their mind: What detail? and Where am I supposed to get it? These questions suggest a more fundamental problem with the way students approach story writing. It is not a matter of adding an extra dash of seasoning. It is a matter of changing to a completely different recipe for their story stew.

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students don’t “shotgun” their stories (include a number of story lines, hoping that one will hit the mark) because they think each of their plot lines is a worthy idea. They do it because they have neither a clear image of what their specific story is about, nor a clear idea of what a story, in general, is about. Again, a fundamental shift, rather than a slight adjustment, is needed. This shift must occur in the way students are taught to think about and approach stories

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When students are shown how to better visualize their story, and how to better understand the anatomy of a story, they automatically choose more powerful, accurate, dynamic, descriptive words. All students are replete with imagination and creativity. What they need to better understand is the form of a story, so that they can successfully apply their imagination and creativity to this unique structure.

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Beginning storytellers grab a new story and want to begin developing the nuances of performance technique immediately, skipping the real work associated with story development. They complain that developing effective gestures, physical characterization, and vocalization are the hard parts. These are the oral equivalents of the student writing complaints.

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In private, away from their students, many teachers have complained that their students’ stories are boring. I have asked more than a thousand teachers to list the most common and serious problems of their students’ stories. Their complaints (criticisms and requests might be more accurate words) fall into four categories:       1. Lack of adequate description and detail.       2. Lack of a cohesive, single story line (plot).       3. Use of weak word choices (especially for verbs).       4. Lack of imagination and originality

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In order of frequency of mention, the seven hardest aspects of story writing are:       1. Getting an idea for what to write about.       2. Mastering the mechanics of writing.       3. Figuring out how not to be boring.       4. Figuring out who the characters are.       5. Creating a title.       6. Writing dialog.       7. Figuring out how to start the story.

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Coaches complain that beginning storytellers lack expression and conviction in their delivery, and that they haven’t developed a clear image of their story characters. Beginning storytellers don’t lack these qualities deliberately. They lack them because they overlooked them in their rush to develop final story delivery.

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seven problems create the symptomatic problems students and teachers complain about, and they obscure the potential of student stories. The deadly seven are:       1. They think plot before and above character.       2. They write about undefined and underdeveloped characters.       3. They write without knowing the ending.       4. They write “blind.”       5. They focus on outcomes rather than struggles.       6. They create and write at the same time.

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These seven problems create the symptomatic problems students and teachers complain about, and they obscure the potential of student stories. The deadly seven are:       1. They think plot before and above character.       2. They write about undefined and underdeveloped characters.       3. They write without knowing the ending.       4. They write “blind.”       5. They focus on outcomes rather than struggles.       6. They create and write at the same time.       7. They lack a knowledge of systematic editing and revision

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. I found that these seven underlying problems are as old as writing itself.

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Note that the first five of these fundamental problems must be solved before students begin to write. Only one problem (#6) is corrected during the story-drafting process. This is accomplished by distinguishing story creation from story drafting. Only one problem (#7) is corrected after the story-drafting process.

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A story is a unique and specific narrative structure, with a specific style and set of necessary characteristics, that includes a sense of completeness. The structural demands of a story create its incredible power and allure. Stories pass on wisdom and experience. Stories shape beliefs and values. Stories are the building blocks of knowledge, the foundation of memory and learning. Stories model effective use of words, of language. Stories create empathy and connect us to our humanness. Stories link past, present, and future by teaching us to anticipate the possible consequences of our actions, by teaching us cause and effect.

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Understanding begins with a clear definition. Not every narrative piece is a story. A story carries structural demands and expectations that set it apart from other narrative forms and give it incredible draw and power.

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Plot is not what allows readers to understand and internalize a story. Plot is not what readers crave and require from a story. Plot is not what uniquely separates story from other narrative forms.

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The problem with dictionary and other plot-based definitions is that they simply do not identify what gives a story its appeal and power. They do not identify what separates story from other narrative forms

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plot-based definitions lead students to believe that all they must do to create a story is describe the action of one or more events. Not true. Plot-based definitions imply that a reader is satisfied if a sequence of events is adequately described. Again, not true. Describe any book or story you have enjoyed. I’m willing to bet that you would begin your description by identifying a character and not some disconnected bit of action.

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Really, it is unwanted change that creates stories. Why? Because characters struggle against unwanted change and become immersed in internal and external conflict with the agents of that change. Their goal is to avoid or reverse the unwanted change. Of course, change isn’t really necessary for a story to occur. The threat of change is enough conflict to incite characters to snuggle. Clearly, it is character, conflict, straggle, and goal that create stories

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    Incidents are plot- or event-based. Stories are character-based

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An incident is simply an event, something that happens. We tell each other about incidents every day. Few real stories happen to us, but incidents happen regularly. Rational humans work very hard, in fact, to keep incidents from becoming stories by avoiding the conflict and struggle, the risk and danger, that are required of a story. Most of what we share in informal, daily conversation and storytellings are really incidents. Incidents can, and often do, contain tragedy, trauma, and loss. They describe and engender strong emotions. Still, without identifiable conflict and struggle, an incident is simply something that happens

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Incidents become stories when the writer redirects the presentation, away from plot and toward the characters. Only after the writer makes this conversion will characters, and their goals and motives, conflicts and flaws, risks and struggles, be brought to the fore to engage the reader.

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    1. Characters       Characters are the central organizing element of all stories. Stories happen to characters. Characters are the driving force of a story. Characters take the actions, experience the conflicts, and undertake the struggles of a story. Characters are at the core of every story element and event. No other element has meaning and relevance without a character.       2. Conflicts       Stories happen to characters, but they are about the problems and flaws that story characters must face. Problems and flaws are the elements that create conflict. The more dangerous the conflict, the better. Conflict implies adversaries. These opponents may be external or internal. They may be living beings or forces of nature.       Yet it is not the adversities, the problems and flaws, that rivet readers to a story. It is the risk and danger associated with the problems and flaws that readers really care about. Characters must have a vested interest in the outcome of their struggles. They must have something at risk for which they struggle. There must be some danger to characters. This danger need not be physical. Danger to their emotions, to their reputation, or to their self-image is every bit as valid and interesting. If characters risk nothing, face no danger, and have nothing to lose, the reader will never feel compelled to stick around to see how the story comes out.       Conflict, then, consists of the internal flaws and external problems a character must face, and the risk and danger associated with each.       3. Struggles       Struggles are the actions a character takes to overcome conflict. No action (internal or external) means no story. The character must do something. It is during these struggles that risk and danger are realized, that meaningful action happens, that excitement and tension build. Struggles require character and conflict to have meaning for a reader, but it is the struggles themselves that readers come to watch.       4. Goals       The character’s struggle to overcome the story’s conflict and associated risk and danger must be undertaken to achieve something the character cares about, to achieve the story’s goal. If a character has no goal, no need, there is no reason for them to struggle or to face the conflicts before them, no reason to confront risk and danger. Conflict, struggle, and risk and danger must be undertaken for a reason. This reason is a character’s story goal.       The approach to stories implied by my definition is far more important than the actual wording. Stories are about characters. All elements of a successful story evolve from the characters and their goals, conflicts, and struggles. All elements are dependent upon the characters. Plot derives from character and struggle. Setting is defined by the needs of the characters. The beginning, the middle, and the end are written to serve the needs of the characters

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I have participants pick a story from their family history to write. Most struggle through the first days, realizing that their story lacks tension, power, interest, a climax, and a theme. What they really lack is a story. They are trying to write an incident because this is the form in which events are routinely recorded and passed down through most families.

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what draws readers most deeply into a story is a sense that the story seems real. Above all else, we want a story to seem real. Even fantasy stories of tap-dancing frogs, of grouchy trees who won’t share sunlight with bushes and grasses at their feet, or of talking worms who wear fancy suits can be made to seem real. It happens all the time

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What makes a story seem real? The first reason mentioned for believing one story over another is usually details. It tops the list of listener and reader demands. The second element of the story readers are drawn to, is some aspect of character information. We all gravitate toward stories that include character feelings, histories, reactions, motives, and relationships. These stories seem more real. We also gravitate toward humor. Stories that make us laugh are more appealing. Somehow, humor generates authenticity. Finally, we tend to believe that all of a story is real if it includes some factual information

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no one has ever voted that a story seems real because they liked or believed its plot. There will always be a plot, and it must be logically plausible, but plot is not what readers or listeners are drawn to first

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Students quickly learn how to win “What Makes a Story Real?“that is, how to collect the most votes. Within a couple of rounds, the real story (told by the student to whom the story really happened) is always the dullest. Every student who has the freedom to embellish their story will lavish physical detail and character information upon the basic story line. Their stories become wonderfulso wonderful, in fact, that listeners are certain no one could have made up all that detail, certain that the story must have really happened that way.

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The keys to making a story seem real are the same keys uncovered when we tried to define a story: detailed character information, conflicts and problems, character actions (struggles) and reactions, and detailed descriptions of the scenes and actions. Each of these key elements needs further examination before we can create a successful progression of writing activities that leads student to writing better first drafts.

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consider that Americans consume more than 8 billion hours watching television soap operas every year. Yet nothing ever happens on the soaps. You can miss one for months and return only to find the same telephone conversations still in progress. Soap operas are character studies. This is why we sit transfixed in front of our televisions every day. We know every secret, flaw, goal, and twisted motive of every character; the more we learn, the more irresistible they become. Stories are about characters

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Try making up a storyquickly. You’ll find that you tend to think first and describe first what will happen in the story. We begin with the plot. Yet plot alone never has, and never will, engage a reader. A seating summer sun blazing down its wilting heat during a long summer drought that has cracked the parched earth is, at best, mildly interesting. Add a main charactera young worm named Wilby who must cross this cracked and withered landscape, with a vial of medicine tied around his neck with a red ribbon, to save his dying grandfather. Add a flock of fierce, starving crows circling low overhead, casting black, fearsome shadows across the dirt… . Now we want to know what happens. It is always the characters, their conflicts, their struggles, and their goals that hook us and make us care about the plot

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If an audience or a reader likes the characters, they will like the story. If they don’t like the characters, they won’t like the story. There is no way plot and action alone can pull them into the ranks of the satisfied

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Helping students change the very core of their thinking about a story, from plot-based elements, such as action, to character-based elements, such as goals, motives, obstacles, and reactions, is difficult. Don’t expect the shift to occur during one preliminary exercise. Part of the reason students don’t give story characters their due is that they tend to think of character development as being mundane and boring rather than empowering and exciting. They approach characters the wrong way, just as they approach stories the wrong way.

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What information creates an interesting story character? Humans aren’t transparent, simple organisms. They are complex and often contradictory. They are surprising and multifaceted. They act differently in different situations. Characters, like humans, are created by concentric layers of history, belief, experience, and interpretation. Layer stacked upon layerlike the layers of an onioncreates a character. It is the sum of these layers, rather than any individual layer, that creates a compact, sturdy, interesting, believable character. The question can now be better stated: What layers of information create a character, and which automatically create an interesting character?

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Sensory image, or information available directly to the senses.        Personality, or how the character relates to and interacts with the world.        Activity, or what the character does.        History, or what the character has done in the past.       These are four of the five layers of a character a writer must address.

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there is a fifth, deeper layer that is both more basic to every character and more important to every story. This innermost layer involves the core elements of a character.

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We tend to overlook the core elements of a character, just as we do for our friends and family. These elements are buried too deeply to observe, even in ourselves. They form the very core of who we are, and who we think we are. The place to begin creating characters is at their core.

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The elements of the core layer shape all the layers above them and give them meaning within the context of the story. Though the core elements of a human being form an intricate web of competing and interrelated goals, motives, flaws, and foibles that would require perhaps a lifetime on a psychiatrist’s couch to understand, a story character is reduced to having only those few core elements that relate to the story itself

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shape all the layers above them and give them meaning within the context of the story. Though the core elements of a human being form an intricate web of competing and interrelated goals, motives, flaws, and foibles that would require perhaps a lifetime on a psychiatrist’s couch to understand, a story character is reduced to having only those few core elements that relate to the story itself.      

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How are the core elements of a story character presented?       Sixteen-year-old Caroline wanted, more than anything, to learn to read. But in Colonial America in 1768, women did not read. Caroline’s parents forbade her to even talk about it. “Society would ridicule any female,” they said, “who wasted her time in idle reading.” They were a poor family and needed every able-bodied member to work in the family candle shop. Through the small window where Caroline dipped tapers into liquid tallow, she watched the sons of rich merchants carrying books back and forth, discussing various passages. And she burned with envy and resentment. When one young man left a book on a nearby bench, Caroline rushed out of the shop, snatched that book, and clutched it to her chest. Silently she swore that, no matter what the consequences, with this very book, she would learn to read

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A story character is created by interweaving layers of informationcore information, personality, history, sensory image, quirks, habits, schemes, hopes, dreams, routines, fears, and so on. Where does a writer begin creating this mountain of imagery? What does the writer create first? The answer is to begin with a first impression, a quick, thumbnail sketch solely to identify the character.       The first impression does not create a character. It identifies just enough information to begin the creative process of fleshing out a complete character profile. Six bits of information can be used to create a first impression of a character

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1. Species

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2. Age and gender

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Words such as old, baby, young, fully grown, or teenager create a sufficiently accurate mental picture of the character.

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3. Name

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Names are important. We all have many names: formal names, nicknames, what friends call us, what family call us, names used when others tease us, names we call ourselves. Some of these names we like; some we despise. Which names are used to identify a character, and how the character feels about those names, provides the reader with information about how the character views him or herself and how others view him or her.

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4. Appearance

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5. Vocation

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6. Personality

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Identify one aspect of the character’s activity. It can be their job, their role in society, or a favorite hobby

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Find one word that creates an overall impression of the character’s dominant personality trait. Is the character pushy, meek, friendly, quiet, hardworking, or lazy? Some writers wait to create this one aspect of a first impression until after they create (or while they are creating) the other core elements, because many of these elements (goal, conflict, reactions, etc.) will reflect the character’s personality. Some writers prefer to create a one-word personality impression first and then base other core information upon this personality trait. Either method works.

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Piney, a sad, aging fir tree whose branches had grown bent, withered, and scraggly.       A young, cocky frog named Shirley with an extra-long tongue that could clip a fly out of the air at four feet. Her friends called her “Sure Shot.” Other frogs called her “Surely Stuck-Up

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How is a character’s first impression presented?

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Born Samantha Vanderslice III, she was now a 28-year-old, frazzled housewife with four kids. Everyone called her “Mom,” or “Mrs. Frank Frudgel.” She hadn’t heard anyone use her own, real name, the name she had cherished all her life, for five years.

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These are first impressions. First impressions can be very brief and simple, or they can become more elaborate as the writer explores different names for a character and their reaction to each

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many students are tempted to immediately begin creating story events involving the character. A first impression does not define a story. It merely introduces the writer to a character so that they can proceed with creating that character’s core information.

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2. Goal

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We all have more wants and goals than we could ever fulfill in one lifetime. Some of our desires and goals are noble, almost saintly, and deserve to be announced from the pul-pit. Some we conceal in the deepest, darkest recesses of our souls and don’t dare share them with anyone. Some are so private we hide them even from ourselves. That’s why Americans spend hundreds of millions of dollars every year with analysts trying to discover why we do what we do, and what it is we really want in the first place. We straggle to discover our own hidden core elements

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Every moment of every day is governed by a complex set of competing goals. Should I take a day off and play hooky, or go to work? Should I be helpful and supportive, or be deliciously selfish for a change? Do I want to answer the phone, or let it ring and pretend I’m not home? We weave our way through a continuous minefield of competing wants every day. This is the way we human beings manage our lives

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What characters want to do and want to obtain in the story is their story goal. If readers don’t know the story goal of the main character, they can never appreciate the events of the story. Story events only assume meaning for readers when they see the events either helping or hindering the main character from reaching their goal.

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“Once there was a young frog named Fernly who wanted a raspberry fudge ice cream cone.” The writer has introduced character and goal. In many stories, though, goals are anything but obvious. Goals are often buried and inferred. In many folk and fairy tales, character goals have been altered or lost through the ages, so that only plot elements remain

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you cannot say that Goldilocks has no goal. Nothing is ever done without a reason. If Goldi goes into the bears’ house, she must have some reason for taking this action. It is the writer’s job to uncover reasons and motives. We often don’t search for underlying reasons and motives. We often refuse to admit to the real reasons and motives. Still, there always is one. Always. When a writer doesn’t bother to find the goal for a main character, they instantly discard much of the potential power and allure of their story

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The main character’s goal tells us when the story will end. It will end either when the character reaches their goal, or when the character realizes that they will never reach their goal. These are the only two story endings possible. Goal creates the ending.

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The main character’s goal tells us what the story is about: “Once there was a young frog named Fernly who wanted a raspberry fudge ice cream cone.” This goal defines whether or not each event is relevant to this story, and thereby establishes the structure of this story. It tells us how to interpret every story event. The goal gives meaning to every event. The reader will interpret everything that happens as either helping or hindering Fernly from getting his ice cream cone.

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Guide your students into the habit of creating character and goal at the very beginning of their story planning. The story can’t move forward without these two key elements

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3. Conflict

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Story conflict is the composite effect of two story elements:       1. Obstaclesproblems and flaws

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The main character can’t have reached their goal yet, or there wouldn’t be a story. A man wanted a thousand dollars; he had a thousand dollars. There’s no story there. It only becomes a story if the character hasn’t yet reached their goal.

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There are only two possible kinds of obstacles: those that originate from outside a character (problems), and those that originate from inside a character (flaws)

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A flaw is any internal drive, feeling, or motive that prevents a character from obtaining a goal. Flaws can be, but do not need to be, negative

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Flaws can also be neutral (ignorance, misunderstanding, misinformation, etc.) or even positive (self-sacrifice, conflicting goals, nobility, etc.)

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Usually, flaws and problems are coupled. That is, the onset of a problem forces a character to confront a dreaded flaw. To solve the problem, the character must also overcome the flaw. Flaws and problems exacerbate each other and are far more formidable in tandem than either would be alone.       A knight of old must rescue the fair princess from the evil wizard and his henchmen dragons. The wizard, though, lives in the top of a twisting turret high upon a jagged mountain cliff. Not only does our hero have a dreadful fear of heights, but he is allergic to dragon breath. Still, he really wants to save the princess… .

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Obstacles are the root cause of story conflicts. Conflict drives stories. Problems and flaws (as was true for goals) must seem real to the character and be relevant to the reader. Further, not all problems and flaws are created equal. The bigger the problem, the deeper the flaw, the more readers like it, and the more engrossing the story

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The second element of conflict determines what makes a problem or flaw bigger or deeper.

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2. Risk and danger

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It really isn’t the obstacles themselves we care about

it isn’t the actual flaws and problems we care about. It is the risk and danger they represent for the main character that holds us rapt. Danger is a measure of the severity of the consequences of failure. Risk equals the probability of failure. Increase the danger (what might happen to the main character), or increase the risk (the likelihood that that danger will be realized), and the story more strongly captivates the reader.

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The flaws and problems that create conflict are an essential element of a story. Dominant risk and danger are characteristics of a good story. It is possible to have a story with little or no risk and danger. It would almost certainly be a boring story, but it would still be a story

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Relevant, unavoidable risk and danger hooks readers and won’t let them go. Books described as ”page-turners,” books that the reader “can’t put down,” are stories in which risk and danger are used to their fullest effect.

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In every story, have your students search for ways to burden the character with flaws and problems. Have them search for ways to increase the physical and emotional risk and danger associated with each obstacle. This means that students must be mean and cruel to the characters they create. However, students are loath to do this. Once they have created and given story birth to a character, they want to arm that character with extraordinary powers to ensure them an easy, successful story life.       You must help students shift their thinking. They must focus on flaws, problems, risk and danger, struggle and conflict, rather than character successes. In fact, the more cruel your students are to their main characters, the more thankful readers will be

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The risk and danger a writer creates need not afflict only the main character. It may, and often does, afflict the character’s family, community, or country. Someone on a quest to save a community is a much more gripping situation than someone on a quest to save only their own skin. Why? Placing an entire town in peril creates more total risk and danger than placing just one person in peril. More risk and danger creates more interest.

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Typically, writers think of and work with flaws, problems, and their associated risk and danger as an interconnected whole. The term jeopardy is often used to describe this powerful combination. Jeopardy creates conflict. Every story, at its heart, centers upon a character and the jeopardy they must face. The greater the jeopardy, the more we care about the character, and the better we like the story.

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A crucible is a technical and less important core element of a character. Still, it is an essential consideration. If your students succeed in creating incredible obstacles for a character, with deadly risk and danger, some reader will inevitably ask, “Why doesn’t the character just walk away and say, ‘Heck, I didn’t want that goal, anyway’?”

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Something must force the main character to confront the jeopardy your students have carefully laid in waiting for them. We all need a helping outside push to rise to heroic levels. That outside boost is a crucible.       The most common crucible is time. The kidnapper says, “Get the money here by eight o’clock, or I’ll kill the hostage.” The doctor says, “We have to find a matching kidney donor within 24 hours, or your brother will die.” In either case, the race against time has begun. There is no longer any time to hesitate or back away from the danger. Fears and problems must be confronted now. There is no other option.

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Pride, loyalty, fortune, and love are also commonly used as crucibles. Almost any flaw or problem can be used as a crucible if it is constructed as a conditional threat: “If you don’t ___________, then ___________ is gonna happen!” A crucible conveniently forces the main character to take a deep breath, face the jeopardy, and engage the conflict, thereby creating a winning story.

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To have a story, the main character must act, must do something. Their goal, what they want, is blocked by some jeopardy. No story can progress until the character is willing to take some action to obtain their goal. Readers want and need to know what this character is willing to do and risk to reach a goal. This is one of the most important aspects of the story to a reader

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Plot equals the actions the character takes to overcome obstacles and reach their goal.

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We judge characters by their actions. We relate to characters largely through their actions. The story plot is about the actions of the main character

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Reactions are a subset of actions. Reactions are those unconscious, automatic movements (gestures, facial expressions, and utterances) made at the moment something happens, or within the first few seconds after it happens. Reactions are a form of reflex action.

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Stressful story events create opportunities for character reactions. There is nothing a reader craves more than character reactions. Yet we don’t care about all reactions. Reactions to emotionally charged and stressful moments are what we want in a story. This is why a writer must search for ways to create and intensify the jeopardy.

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Reactions are not statements of a character’s emotional state. They are statements of action. The reader learns little with a statement such as “She was sad.” We need to see what she does (Does her lip quiver? Does she clench her fists and tighten her shoulders? Does she laugh to cover the deep hurt? Do her eyes cloud or blaze with passion?), and we need to hear what she says when she is sad. These are reactions.       Character reactions also present the most surefire opportunities for slipping humor into a story. Exaggerate a character’s physical and verbal reactions and the moment will be funny. It works almost every time. It is especially effective to repeat such a reaction throughout a story. Many stand-up comedians make their living exaggerating reactions to every imaginable situation. Studying successful stand-up comedians is an excellent way to study effective character reaction and overreaction.       Character reactions, however, even more than overtly stated goals, almost never appear in student stories. Students aren’t accustomed to thinking in terms of character. They’re busy thinking about what happens, and they forget about considering the ways their characters react to these events. Reactions to events are far more important to the reader, and to the story, than the events themselves.

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Of the core character elements discussed previously, three form the key to defining a story. The BIG Three are character, goal, and the problems and flaws that define conflict.

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Reactions must be plausibly consistent with the defined personality traits of a character and are used, reflexively, to reveal these traits.

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A character’s core layer is critically important to the character and to the story. However, this one layer neither defines nor creates a complete, interesting character. Core information gives writer and reader a thumbnail sketch of the character and defines the story. The other four layers of character information (sensory image, personality, activity, and history) flesh out the character and make them compelling and complete

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The reader needs to see enough of each of these layers to understand and relate to this character, and to visualize a compelling image in their mind

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Sensory information creates the physical reality of a character. It includes how they dress, their grooming habits, prominent features, expressions, how they laugh, how they keep and structure their environment, how they walk, sit, and talk. It includes the sound of their voice, the words they use, and the way they structure their dialog. It includes what they eat, how much they eat, and how they eat. It includes scars, bumps, twitches, habits (nervous or otherwise), and whether the character would be noticed if they walked into a crowded room. It includes their physical strength, as well as the strength of their jaw (facial shape) and the strength of their tongue (verbal audacity). It includes whether they maintain eye contact, as well as the color and shape of their eyes.

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The writer will never report all the sensory detail they create for main characters. They will communicate much of it through stereotypes. Stereotypes have the power and potential to cause much damage. However, they also have the power and potential to efficiently communicate sensory information

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If I introduce a character as being a bunny rabbit, you would instantly invoke an image having not only size and shape, but also temperament, personality, and particular eating habits. These images are stereotypes

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This rabbit, though, might have an insatiable sweet tooth and break into candy stores at night. It might be a vicious killer bunny who carefully files his long front teeth into razor-sharp pointsnot to chomp through carrots but through victims he plans to rob.

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Stereotypes are any specific qualities, attributes, or characteristics ascribed to an individual solely because of their membership in a particular group

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If I introduce Lea as being a 12-year-old Eskimo girl, I don’t need to tell you that she has straight, black hair; dark eyes; and a round face

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Many stereotypes, though, aren’t as benign: a dumb blond, an Irish Boston cop, a California surfer, a teenage gang member, a cold-hearted bank executive, a kindly grandmother. These common stereotypes all carry some negative connotations that are often inaccurate.

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A character’s personality profile is a description of how they choose to interact with the world. It is a description of how they interpret themselves, express themselves, and interact with other characters. Are they honest, trustworthy, sullen, cruel, kind, glib, shy, quiet, boisterous, introverted, extroverted, foolhardy, or timid? Are they secretive, sensitive, hard-nosed, apologetic, or quick to blame? These are a few of hundreds of personality traits. Combined, they create a personality profile

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Remember that characters may act one way in one situation and differently in another situation. An office executive might be loud, gruff, and demanding at work, but meek and submissive at home (which, by the way, is a stereotype). Personality elements often appear to be inconsistent and complex

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Characters won’t necessarily “be themselves” in every situation.

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The personality layer includes more than just one-word labels for how a character treats others. It includes what excites them, what bores them, their passions, their selfimage, and their sense of humor (or lack thereof). It includes what they are afraid of, what they long for, their loves, their hates, their doubts, and their beliefs

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These personality elements create motives for a character’s actions and reactions.

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The activity layer is really a subset of the history layer. It is, in effect, “present history.” It is an accounting of the present pattern of activity in a character’s life. It includes the character’s job, hobbies, chores, and games. It may also include such information as their possessions, and how often they wash their hands and brush their teeth. Activity and personality are interrelated and should be plausibly consistent.

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History is what happened to the character before the time frame of the story, the events that helped shape them into the character they are at present. Why should your students care about a character’s history? The events that happened to a character in the past, and how the character interprets these events, is a (if not the) major determinant of their present beliefs, attitudes, goals, fears, hopes, and personality affectations. A character’s history tells us why they are who they are, and why they do what they do

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The key questions to ask when creating a character’s back story are: Why do they think and act the way they do? What events helped shape their thoughts and actions? Usual targets in creating a back story include traumatic moments, major life events and significant moments, the character’s origins and family structure, how they were treated by others, their relationships and friendships, and how they interpret their past performance at work, chores, and studies

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Detailed, multi-layered character information is usually created only for one or two main characters

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As soon as students have a brief sketch of a character, they should begin to watch and listen to the people around them. Can the ways these people look, act, speak, laugh, or blow their nose be used as models for the main character? Do students see any interesting actions or reactions in the people they meet? If their character is a dog, have them watch dogs for a while to see what they do. Have them watch themselves. How do they respond, react, and think? What do they fear, hate, and crave? Why not have their character adopt similar values and attitudes?

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Many elements of the best characters come from observations. I often spend months collecting observations for my characters before I begin to write a novel-length story

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begin keeping a notebook of character observations now.

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log every interesting person, action and reaction, and dialog they observe.

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the more they observe people, the easier and faster they’ll be able to invent elements for a new character.

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A large portion of character information for any fictional character is certainly invented by the writer from their imagination. There are tricks to make this process easier for students. Have them hold an imaginary conversation with the character and ask them questions. The student should picture the character answering in the character’s own voice and unique phraseology. Have students visualize their character and let the character provide the needed information

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Have your students pretend that they are a police officer interrogating a suspect. As a skeptical cop, the student should demand answers of the character and be very suspicious of the first, easy answers that come to mind for the character’s response. Don’t trust characters to readily reveal their true inner feelings, just as we humans do not. Challenge the character with tough questions. Reject the first answers and demand others. Continue until an interesting, story-worthy answer is obtained

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The reader doesn’t want to know everything, just what is special, interesting, and relevant about the character.

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If characters make the story, then interesting, unusual character traits, quirks, personalities, histories, actions, and reactions make the character

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I recommend that students begin creating their characters by creating the core elements, and then hang the other four layers of information onto that framework. Many ideas will flood into their mind as soon as the first impression, goal, jeopardy, and struggle have been created.

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It is often most useful to begin with a quick exploration of the character’s history, the events that have led them to the point at which the story begins

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The character profile is launched by collectively creating an identity for a main character and then a goal for that character. From this modest beginning, a long series of “why” questions guide the participants in uncovering character elements and traits that have brought the character to wanting the chosen goal. These simple “why” questions act as a guide to locating character information relevant to the story. Each new bit of information raises new questions about different layers of the character profile. A well-defined character and a well-defined story soon emerge.

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a writer must create much more information about each than they will ever use. However, if the writer creates only that information absolutely needed in their story, the characters will never seem real, nor will they be interesting.

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There is no need to paint a complete picture in the opening scene. Intermix action with narrative description. Tell the reader something about the characters, then show the reader some action involving the characters, and then repeat the process.

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. A writer doesn’t need to provide all the essential character information in long narrative passages. Let the characters reveal themselves through what they say, what they do, how they do it, their expressions while they do it, what they think, how they react, and the names they use to describe themselves. Let characters reveal one another through their thoughts about them, their actions and reactions towards them, and their dialog with and about them.       This approach to revealing character information is part of the general maxim writers call, “show don’t tell.”

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ving the characters, and then repeat the process.       Second, to the extent possible, students should let the characters do the work for them. A writer doesn’t need to provide all the essential character information in long narrative passages. Let the characters reveal themselves through what they say, what they do, how they do it, their expressions while they do it, what they think, how they react, and the names they use to describe themselves. Let characters reveal one another through their thoughts about them, their actions and reactions towards them, and their dialog with and about them.       This approach to revealing character information is part of the general maxim writers call, “show don’t tell.”

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Rather than telling the reader that a character is clumsy, the writer shows the character dropping and fumbling various objects. Readers will conclude on their own that the character is clumsy.

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question: Must students complete multi-layer character profiles for every character? No. For a novel-length (chapter-book) story, a writer will probably want to create a complete profile for each major character. For a short story, students might only profile two charactersthe main character, or protagonist, and the character against whom the main character struggles, or antagonist

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The story ends when the main character’s goal is resolved. That is, the story ends when the main character either gets what they want, or realizes that they will never get what they want.

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The antagonist is that character against whom the main character must struggle. The antagonist is the embodiment and personification of the conflict and jeopardy the main character faces. The antagonist is the one we love to hate. The antagonist must have their own wants and goals in the story. They must have purpose and motive. They must intentionally or unintentionally block the main character from reaching their goal.

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Must the antagonist be a person? Of course not. In many stories, the antagonist is an animal. A cat might be the ideal antagonist in a story about a mouse. Lions, bears, tigers, and cobras have all played the role of antagonist. The antagonist might not even be a living thing. A mountain that must be climbed or crossed might be the antagonist. A river or a raging winter storm might be the antagonist.

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The antagonist might even be the main character. It is said that the best fight is always the fight against oneself, and that we are often our own worst enemy. This is said because it is often true. If the greatest obstacle facing the main character is an internal flaw instead of some external problem, then they are their own antagonist.

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To identify the antagonist, examine the story’s obstacles. Find the greatest obstacle, the one with the most risk and danger, the one that will be the most difficult to overcome, the last obstacle encountered during the story’s climax. This obstacle is the antagonist. The climax of the story should be the scene in which the character confronts the final obstacle standing between them and their goal. This obstacle should be the antagonist

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Stories are about struggles. Stories without struggles become incidents. Stories without an antagonist become rambling incidents. If the main character struggles at all (as they must), they must struggle against something. This something is the antagonist.

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Go back to your main character. Define their goal. List the obstacles that block them from that goal. The biggest is the antagonist. If you have no obstacles and no struggles, then you have no story.”

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If a writer does include more than one antagonist, all must be confronted and overcome at the story’s climax

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The single routine exception to the one-antagonist guideline occurs when an internal flaw becomes the main character’s greatest obstacle. The main character acts as their own antagonist. In such stories, there is still room for an external antagonist to torment the main character. A problem can be personified into an antagonist. Then the main character must confront both their internal flaw and some other antagonist during the climax.

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If your students are to make their main characters into heroes, if they are to build suspense and tension into their stories, the way to do it is not to develop a heroic main character. It can’t be done. The way to do it is to develop a seemingly unbeatable antagonist.

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Jeopardy, and especially the antagonist, are the keys to creating a memorable main character and to creating gripping tension and suspense in a story. The value of a gloriously diabolical antagonist cannot be overemphasized. The more power your students give to their antagonist, the more power they allow for the main character.

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the act of writing does not tend to develop an expanded and more vivid image of scenes and characters in a student writer’s mind. This creative expansion is blocked by the mental effort devoted to the mechanics of writing (physically writing and controlling pen or pencil, word choice, spelling, grammar, etc.). Telling a story, talking about a story, drawing pictures of a story, acting out a storythese have all been shown to increase a writer’s visual detail. Writing a story, though, does not.

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If students have not formed a story in their mind as a vivid, detailed “movie” before they begin to write, it probably never will develop, either in their mind or on the page, without a considerable rewriting effortan effort most students have neither the time nor inclination to perform

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Oral-based, prewriting activity has been shown to develop the vivid imagery students need to write convincingly.

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writers must be able to see their story in their mind as if they were really there watching it happen

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They know where there are spots, chips, nicks, and stains. They know the history of each object. They know whether sunlight pours through their windows in the morning or afternoon, and how shadows slide across the walls during the day. They know whether the room is stuffy or drafty, hot or cold, bright or dark. They know what smells they would smell and sounds they would hear in the morning while getting dressed, and in the evening while doing homework. They know how and where dust collects. They know the identity and history of every bit of clutter. They know an amazing amount of details about this room

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There is a simple test your students can use to ensure that they do not write blind: If they can see each scene as well as they can see their own bedroom, they are ready to write.

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The writer needs to see, hear, smell, and understand each story character as well as they understand members of their own family. If they know specific details about a family member, they should create similar details for their characters.

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This is a scene in the story, and the writer can’t make it seem real without first seeing it in detail. What kind of bowls do bears use? Metal mixing bowls? Rubber dog bowls? Ceramic or china bowls? Are there plates beneath the bowls? Are there placemats? Napkins? Silverware? Do bears use spoons and napkins, or do they simply stuff their faces into the bowls? Are the bowls on a table, a breakfast bar, or just lined up on the floor? Where is the sink, the counter? Are these clean, or covered by last night’s dirty dishes? Is the kitchen lighted? Are there electric lights or candles, or does the sunlight come through windows? How many windows? Are there curtains? What kind? Are the windows clean, or covered with a moldy film of musty bear hair? Does the kitchen smell like porridge, honey, dirty dishes, or bears? What’s on the floor? Black-and-white checked linoleum? Where’s the refrigerator? Is it covered with pictures that Baby Bear has drawn, stuck there with small bear magnets?       After answering these questions, a writer can see the kitchen and add the detail to make it come alive for the reader

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students need to create similar degree of detail for the scenes of their story. Let’s use the kitchen scene in “Goldilocks and the Three Bears” as an example. A student might say, “She walks into the kitchen, eats porridge, and walks out. I don’t need to know much about that room.” Wrong.

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The writer’s job is to create a story and then create in their mind a detailed, vivid, multisensory, exacting movie of that story. Most of a writer’s prewriting activity should focus on the development of this vivid imagery

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Details both describe specific element(s) of some things and imply or invoke some larger context, usually either the scene (the entire physical place) or the characters. Dew drops clinging to a lacy spider web can conjure an image of an entire morning meadow. The image of a crumpled sheet of paper, blackened on one side by frantically pencil-scribbled notes that have been crossed out, only to have been written in a new form, only to have been viciously scribbled out again, can invoke an image of a desperate writer’s desk. These are details.

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Every reader wants to vicariously experience the events, stresses, and triumphs of a story. They need three things to be able to do this:       1. A character and their core information (discussed previously).       2. A perspective and viewpoint that will pull the reader into the action of the story (discussed shortly).       3. The details that bring the story to vivid life and make it seem real.

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Description: An account of something in words; discourse intended to give a mental image of something experienced.

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the concept of detail is still difficult for students to grasp. Answering four common questions will help:       1. What does a writer describe?       The details a writer chooses for their story describe where the story happens, what happens there, and the characters. Details describe what each of the five human senses would record if readers were within the story to experience it for themselves. Details describe that which sets something apart, that which is unique about something, that which is interesting and relevant about something.

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2. How does a writer describe something?       A writer describes by finding sensory details that the reader will understand. These details should be specific, not general. They should describe the unique attributes of something. Description may include direct sensory details: “Her eyes clouded over and she wept.” Or, if it will create a more vivid image for the reader, the description may include similes or metaphors to reference to a common thing, experience, or phenomenon: “Her eyes darkened like a stormy sea, and glistening tears trickled down her cheeks and dripped off her chin as if from a leaky faucet.” The goal of every detail is to help create a vivid, precise, and

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3. What forms can description take?       Detail can take many forms. Specific nouns are a form of detail. The noun pants is neither specific nor descriptive, but Levi’s Dockers is. Adjectives, prepositional phrases, and dependent clauses provide more specific information to separate a specific noun from others of its type. There are many pairs of Levi’s Dockers in the world. The specific pair we want to identify is the tattered pair of Dockers with two neon orange hearts stapled over ragged holes to keep her underwear from showing through. Now we have specific detail, identifying a specific pair of pants while creating visual imagery to help the reader see it. I didn’t include detail about the zipper, stitching, or pockets because there is nothing unique and interesting about them for this specific pair of pants.

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Specific action verbs are also a form of detail. “She entered the room” provides no specific image of the action taken. “She blasted into the room,” ”She crept into the room,” or “She slithered into the room” each provide a clear image of the action taken and shows how her entrance was unique and different from other people’s entrances. Adverbs describe verbs and can be used to provide more specific detail when a verb alone will not suffice.

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Detail can also take the form of references to common things, experiences, or phenomena. “She cried a lot” doesn’t create nearly as unique and vivid an image as “She cried a waterfall.” Similes and metaphors (discussed in Part III) are the grammatical forms a writer uses to create these references. “She cried a waterfall” is a metaphor.

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.       4. What creates good detail?       Details may include almost any word and take almost any grammatical form as long as it creates a strong, vivid, and specific image of what is unique, interesting, and relevant about the thing, character, or action being described. Here are four questions your students can ask themselves about the detail they plan to include in a story to help them evaluate its effectiveness:       1. Is the description general or specific? (Compare “He was tall” to “He was just tall enough to bonk his head on the doorframe when he forgot to duck.“)       2. Does the description refer to a common trait or to something unique about the thing being described? (Compare “He had long, black hair that reached to his shoulders, as did every male in this Athabaskan town” to “He was the only Athabaskan in Ketchqua who curled his long, black hair with a curling iron.”

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3. Does the description include either direct sensory details, or a simile or metaphor referring to some common thing, experience, or phenomenon?       4. Does the description include direct sensory details that the reader’s own senses could gather if they were within the story, or does it tell the reader about internal character information (feeling, mood, attitude, or personality)?       Good detail is specific, unique, and sensory, conveying an impression obtained through one of the sensessight, smell, taste, touch, or heating. Good detail may be either direct sensory information, or simile or metaphor. Typically, direct sensory information is used far more often than simile and metaphor.       I sometimes have students in storytelling classes play a game called “What Time Is It?” One team member tries to convey a specific hour of the day to their team as quickly as possible by miming what they would do at this exact time of day. No words may be spoken. The winners are rarely the best mimes or actors. The winners are usually the students who select the most descriptive, most identifying detail to mime. Given the right detail, the team correctly guesses the hour in a few seconds. General, non-specific details, even well mimed, rarely lead to correct guesses. It is the unique, interesting details that create vivid images in the mind of the viewer (and reader).

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Effective detail, however, is more than just unique, interesting sensory information. Truly effective story detail of action, place, or object also gives readers insight into the characters associated with the action, place, or object being described. Effective detail leads readers to conclude particular internal information about the characters.       Effective detail describing a character’s room will also give the reader information about the character. Choosing the most interesting detail of a man’s car will effectively describe the car and also reveal some of the man’s personality. Creating a vivid description of how a gift jumps rope will not only allow readers to mentally watch her, but will also allow them insight into what kind of a person she is

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the following list of seven guidelines can be used as a quick recap to keep your students’ detail on track:       1. Name names. Be as specific as possible.       2. Avoid common, ordinary details.       3. Use multiple senses (sight, smell, taste, touch, and hearing).       4. Use details that distinguish the thing being described from other things of the same type.       5. Choose details that reveal combinations of setting, action, and character.       6. Vary your details. Use both direct sensory information and simile or metaphor.       7. Ask yourself, “What is the most unique, descriptive, relevant, and interesting detail I can find for the thing I need to describe?”

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Detail is essential, but it has a price. Writers don’t get to pepper detail into their stories for free. The price of detail is the quantity of extra words required. It can slow the pace of the story

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    Using detail becomes a compromise, a balancing act. Too little detail makes a story vague, unreal, and boring. Too much detail makes a story sluggish, tedious, and boring

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All stories need detailed descriptions. What they really need, though, is the minimum possible amount of detail to effectively and vividly communicate the scenes, actions, and characters.

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One of the tasks of editing is to check for excessive and unnecessary detail. It is much easier to remove the excess than to try to create new detail and wedge it into an undefined and vague scene

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Concentrate descriptive detail where you can afford to slow the pace of the story. Keep action sequences and powerful dialog interchanges relatively free of description. Find ways to include necessary detail in the scenes and passages that precede these exciting and fast-paced story segments

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The strongest detail reveals both physical imagery and action, or both physical imagery and character, or even all three in one precise word or phrase

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students will never use all the detail they create for a character. A writer must create complex character profiles and images, and then sift through this stockpile of information for the few details that best represent the entire multi-layered character package. The more information a student creates and has available, the more likely they are to find the perfect details to use in their story.

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Students can practice choosing vivid details every moment of every day. They should practice this wherever they go. How would they describe the “scene” they are in if it were part of a story? What details would they choose? What words

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Dialog is actually part of character. I discuss it in a separate section because student writers routinely list dialog as being a major writing problem. What is dialog? It is an exact listing of what characters either say or think. Including dialog in a story is one of the most powerful and effective ways to reveal a character to the reader.

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Dialog also slows the pace of the story. Generally, more words are required to present information in dialog form than in direct exposition or narrative.

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The benefits of using dialog are fourfold:        Dialog pulls a reader into a story and makes it more immediate and gripping.        Dialog makes the reader feel closer to (empathetic), and more sympathetic toward, the characters.        Dialog creates energy and is an excellent source of humor.        Dialog reveals characters and makes them seem more real.

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Use dialog for the sake of the character; use narrative for the sake of the story. This means that, when a writer needs to present a substantial portion of the story quickly and efficiently, they should use narrative. When a writer needs to reveal character, or to include a character in the events of a scene, they should use dialog

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Students struggle with dialog. It is extremely difficult for them to write dialog that sounds real. It is difficult for them to write dialog that includes information necessary to move the story forward. It is difficult for them to weave narrative and dialog together as unified and mutually supportive parts of a scene

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Dialog must sound like unrehearsed conversational English. Yet it must efficiently move the story forward like narrative English.

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Dialog is a new language, a new way of structuring and organizing words. Students are not familiar with this language, even though it uses vocabulary they already know. Writing effective dialog, like mastering any new language, is an acquired skill. It comes with practice.

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What a character chooses to say, and not to say, gives the reader direct insight into the character’s intelligence, their education, their age and interests, and their attitudes and concerns. Not every character will notice the same things, think of the same things, or talk about the same things, even in exactly the same situation.

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If a student has created a rich, vivid character, they should be able to see and hear that character speak in their mind. Just as we all can anticipate what a family member would say

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As your students create a conversation, have them ask themselves the following questions:        What would each character want to talk about, to say?        What would they notice?        What do they want the other character to know?       What a character says will depend mostly upon the history, activity, and core elements the writer has created for that character.

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The writer must also consider how a character says something. More than the sound of the character’s voice, the writer should consider dialect, sentence length, sentence connectivity, sentence complexity, and grammar. In other words, the writer must consider how a character combines words into thoughts and sentences. How a character speaks is primarily determined by the personality and sensory profile created by the writer.

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Finally, writers must develop a sense of what natural conversation sounds and looks like, that is, what it sounds like when two or more people talk together naturally. The keys to conversation are the motives and personalities of the characters involved.

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Conversations, like stories, are built on goals, obstacles, conflict, and tension

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Interruption, opposition, sudden jumps to a new topic, unanswered questions, and emotionally charged words and statements all create a sense of conflict and tension. They make the dialog more powerful.

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Jennifer and her mother don’t often directly answer each other. Rather, they put forth their own position and their own arguments. Note also that there is much unsaid history between these two (as there should be in such a conversation), which the reader must infer from the spoken words.

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    Jennifer: Mom, Carol is having a party to       Mom: No. Don’t even ask. I’m still mad about the last time you went out with that bunch.       Jennifer: It’s not exactly a “party” party. Just a get-together. We’ll probably talk about school projects. I really want to go. Can I?       Mom: You have a lot of homework to do tonight. Homework before social get-togethers. Why didn’t you say something earlier?       Jennifer: Carol’s mom said it would be okay for a bunch of us to come over. We won’t go out, or anything. Maybe I could finish my homework over there.       Mom: This is the third time you’ve pulled this stunt this month. You know you won’t do any work once you start gabbing with your friends.       Jennifer: Just this once, mom. I really need to be there tonight. I won’t stay out late. I promise. Pleeeeease!       Mom: Tomorrow is Friday. You can sleep in on Saturday. Sixth-grade homework isn’t that critical… . Just don’t stay out ‘til eleven o’clock again, or this is the last time ever

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The three most difficult aspects of dialog for students seem to be the following:       1. Making it sound real.       2. Using dialog to move the story forward and present essential story information.       3. Making dialog concise and rapid to keep the pace from dragging.

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    As an example of dialog compression, the conversation between Jennifer and her mother has been compressed below using a seven-word limit per line:       Jennifer: Mom, Carol’s having a party to       Mom: Don’t even ask.       Jennifer: It’s just a get-together.       Mom: I’m still mad about last time.       Jennifer: Her mom said we could.       Mom: You have homework

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Jennifer: We won’t leave her house, or anything.       Mom: Homework first.       Jennifer: I’ll finish it over there.       Mom: You’ve said that before.       Jennifer: I won’t stay out late. I promise.       Mom: Just don’t stay out ‘til eleven o’clock again… .       Jennifer: I said I promise!       Mom: Or this is the last time!

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Narrative passages around the dialog set the scene and tell us about the events. Dialog reveals information about the characters, their passion and energy. Compressing dialog helps remind the writer to focus dialog on its primary missionrevealing character.

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Here are some hints to help your students make their dialog more successful:       1. Consider the goal of each speaker.

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What does each speaker want to accomplish in the conversation? What does each speaker want to hide? How much are they are willing to reveal? How do they want others to view them and the topic of discussion? Don’t force characters to answer each question asked of them. There are many times when we don’t directly answer a question but rather talk about something that explains our position in an attempt to steer the conversation in our own favor. Let characters answer with silence sometimes if they can’t think of a way to answer that will benefit themselves. Have each character say what is in their own best interest. Don’t make them say anything they don’t need or want to say

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Beats are the bits of narrative detail a writer weaves between lines of dialog.

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the following example, the beats are italicized:       John flopped onto the couch. “Do you think mom will be home soon?”       Caroline opened a can of Coke and glanced at the mantle clock. “Not for another hour.”       John turned to stare toward the kitchen. “But I’m hungry now.”       Caroline slid onto the couch beside her brother. “Don’t even think about it. Mom said no snacking before dinner.”       John rubbed his chin and then smiled. “Dessert isn’t a snack. It’s dessert. I could eat my dessert now. Then I won’t have to worry about saving room for it during dinner

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Beats are an excellent way to include needed detail for the reader. As you can see in the passage above, though, too many beats become tiresome and detract from the dialog. Beats can dilute the power of dialog.

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. Include only those beats that are necessary to create a vivid, accurate picture of the characters and their actions. Second, don’t spread out beats one per line of dialog. Group them so that three or four lines of dialog can flow unimpeded and undiluted. This will free the natural energy and power of dialog and will help keep the pace of the story from dragging

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. The above passage would read better if the beats were rearranged as follows:       Caroline opened a can of Coke. Her brother John flopped onto the couch and asked,       “Do you think mom will be home soon?”       “Not for another hour.”       “But I’m hungry now.”       “Don’t even think about it. Mom said no snacking before dinner.”       John rubbed his chin and smiled. “Dessert isn’t a snack. It’s dessert. I could eat my dessert now. Then I won’t have to worry about saving room for it during dinner

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If dialog follows a beat, the reader will assume that the character described in the beat is doing the talking.

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a writer can use beats as substitutes for character dialog tags

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There are four alternatives to repeating said for every tag. First, use different, more descriptive verbs. Instead of said, try claimed, alleged, stated, commented, asserted, implied, offered, added, commented, declared, noted, remarked, promised, affirmed, shouted, announced, asserted, described, proclaimed, intoned, vocalized, called, whispered, mumbled, groaned, whined, cried, sang, cheered, panted, and so on. There are hundreds

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as with most other aspects of writing, descriptive tags must be used judiciously. Use none and the story becomes boring. Use too many and the writing seems forced and ridiculous. Use descriptive tags sparingly. Save them for times when that other verb becomes the perfect detail to describe both character and action. In the first John-and-Caroline passage, I would definitely include one descriptive tag, and possibly a second. I would have John whine his first line, and possibly have Caroline threaten or warn, “Don’t even think about it … .”

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The verb used to identify the speaker of a line of dialog is known as a ”tag.”

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Third, when only two people are involved in a conversation, the reader will assume that separate lines of dialog alternate between speakers, unless the writer tells them differently. The writer can group three or four lines of dialog together without any tags without losing the reader. This technique brings out the natural power and speed of dialog.

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Finally, a writer can let unique dialects or speech patterns identify the speaker. If one character (and only one character) stutters, the reader will know when that character is speaking

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students shouldn’t be afraid to use good ol’, plain ol’ said. It’s clear; it’s concise; and it doesn’t compete with the dialog for attention

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Dialog is what characters say. It must sound real and natural when it is said. There is no better or more effective way to make dialog sound real than to read it aloud.

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The writer should say the dialog repeatedly, adjusting the wording to sound real and natural when read. Then the writer should have someone who hasn’t heard it read the dialog aloud

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The more often a writer reads their dialog aloud, the stronger and better it becomes. The same is true for the number of people who read itthe more the better

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Try indirect dialog. This is used when either the writer or another character summarizes or paraphrases what another character said. Indirect dialog reads fast and efficient like narrative, but still sounds like dialog, still carries much of the energy of dialog

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Many students, especially younger students, think that they should write a story’s title first, because the title comes first when they read a book or story. The opposite is true: Save writing the title for the absolute last task in story writing.

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Really, the title is not part of the story. It is a separate, but related, piece that advertises the story.

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We all want our titles to be catchy and memorable

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There are several patterns that have proven themselves consistently successful.

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The [Noun]

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The Crucible, The Jackal

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The [Adjective Noun], or The [Adjective, Adjective Noun].

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The Killer Brussels Sprouts, The Awful, Terrible, Really Bad Day.

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[Noun] and [Noun]

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Pride and Prejudice, “The Lion and the Mouse,” “Samson and Delilah,” The Old Man and the Sea

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[Noun] of (or other preposition) [Noun]

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The Heart of Darkness, “The Commissioner of Balloons,” Marvels of Science, All About Eve.

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[Prepositional Phrase]. We use prepositional phrases often in our everyday speech

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“Above the City,” Along the Waterfront, “Into the Lion’s Den,” Of Mice and Men.

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[Question]. Questions create suspense, interest, and tension. Why not hook the reader with a title that asks a question? What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? “How High Can an Elephant Fly?” Why Do Clocks Run Clockwise?

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If the title is the last thing to be written for a story, the first paragraph (or first few paragraphs) should be the next to last thing written. The first paragraphs of a short story (or the first chapter or two of a novel) have more tasks to perform than any other part of the story. Some of these tasks can’t be clearly understood until the story has been completely written.

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These tasks of the first paragraph(s) of a short story (a story of 1,000 words or less) include the following:       1. Make a good first impression on the reader.       The first paragraph is like a first date. You want to make a good impression so that the reader will want to stay for a second date. Finding the wording to create the right impression is easier once you clearly know the entire story.

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Readers become bored and irritated when kept in the dark. Let them know immediately what the story is about, so they can jump in and become involved with the story and its characters.

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2. Set the tone and mood for the story.       Readers want an immediate “sense” of the story. Will it be funny, scary, a farce, a fantasy, a true story?

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Introduce the main character and their goal.  

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The modern trend is to begin telling a story in the middle of the action rather than with background and introductory information. This was not always the popular style, but it certainly is today.

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Set up the last paragraph

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the fast paragraph match, or at least parallel, that of the last paragraph. This structure gives the reader a sense of satisfaction and provides a sense of proper closure for the story

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That’s a lot of pressure to put on a few simple lines of text, especially when most student writers struggle with the act of beginning, itself. This is the best reason not to worry about getting the first paragraph right when beginning to write the story. Writers must begin writing somewhere, though, and this is usually with the first paragraph. However, students should consider the first paragraph as being merely a place holder, a set of words that helps them begin writing and holds a spot for the real first paragraph, which will come later

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Perspective is really a measure of where the writer forces readers to place themselves within the story while reading and imagining it. If the story were a movie, perspective would define where the camera is placed to film the movie. The writer, of course, creates the story’s perspective. The reason for, and the effect of, creating a perspective is to place the reader in a specific vantage point as they watch the action of the story. Perspective is created by where the writer is allowed to go, and whose mind the writer is allowed to enter. The effect on the reader of such a seemingly simple decision is staggering

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Students should focus on three questions when they consider perspective:

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1. Should I follow one character throughout the story, or must I jump from place to place and character to character?       2. If this story were a movie, where would I place the camera to film it?       3. Which character can most effectively tell this story, or should it not be told from the viewpoint of one of my story characters but instead by some unnamed narrator who describes the story?

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Omniscient perspective

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Writing from an omniscient perspective, the writer can go anywhere, know anything, and enter every character’s mind and thoughts.

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Omniscient perspective distances the reader from the action of the story. It pushes them up to that same high vantage point the writer uses. No one’s heart ever pounded reading a story written in omniscient perspective. It carries the least energy. It makes it more difficult for the reader to become deeply involved in the story and its characters.

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Objective perspective.       This is a relatively new perspective, and has become popular only during the past decade. Objective perspective is the ultimate statement of the “show don’t tell” philosophy. In this perspective, the writer may only report what the reader’s senses would record if they were there to watch it happen. In objective perspective, the writer can go anywhere, see anything, overhear anything, but may not enter any character’s mind to learn their thoughts and feelings

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Stories written in objective perspective tend to be slower and wordier than those written from other perspectives because the writer can’t summarize or interpret anything. Pace and energy often lag in objective perspective. The reader is also denied a viewpoint character to identify with in objective perspective. Stories written in objective perspective are told by a faceless, invisible, objective reporter.

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Third-person perspective

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the camera for third-person perspective follows one specific character. Readers are linked to that one character throughout the entire story. The writer may only go where that one character goes, and may only enter that one character’s mind and know that one character’s thoughts. However, it isn’t this character who reports the story. The story is told by an observer, or viewpoint character

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Third-person perspective is a limiting perspective. The writer can report only what the main character experiences. The writer can go only where the main character goes, and can enter the mind of only that character.

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      Second-person perspective.

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Very few stories use second-person perspective. It is awkward and difficult to maintain. In second-person perspective, the reader becomes the main character, and the writer talks directly to the reader: “You walk down a dark alleyway and hear the rattle of trash cans rolling through the inky blackness behind you. A cat howls ahead of you.” What is awkward about this perspective is that many readers will think, I don’t hear a cat howling

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First-person perspective

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the writer writes as if the story were happening, or had happened, to them

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First-person perspective creates all the power and immediacy of close third-person perspective, and has a bonus advantage: First-person perspective creates impeccable legitimacy and authenticity.

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with all close-in perspectives, the reader is thrust into the core of the action.

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Events, places, and characters (including the main character) are not reported objectively, but rather in accordance with the observations, beliefs, and understanding of the main character. The reader must interpret truth based on what this self-serving main character reports

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Multiple perspectives.       Many writers want to use the power of third- and first-person perspectives but can’t make their story work within the limitations of these perspectives. One solution is to use multiple perspectives, which is as close to having your cake and eating it too as a writer can come.

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the writer writes part of the story from one perspective and other parts from some other perspective.

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Multiple perspectives are most common in chapter books. Several chapters are written from one perspective. Then the writer shifts to a different location and a different character for a chapter or two before returning to the original perspective

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There are two cautions when using multiple perspectives. First, each perspective shift is a disruption for the reader. It pulls the reader out of the story while they adjust to the new perspective. Second, the reader can become confused if the shift isn’t made clearly and cleanly. Perspective shifts are a useful tool, but bring with them a price that both writer and reader must pay. They should be used only when there is no other way to tell the story.

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Objective perspective is a sensory-laden way to write. Rich details abound. The reader is allowed tomustdo all interpretation to decide how characters feel and what their secret motives are. This makes the reader feel more involved with the story.

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First person: I was kickin’ up dust as I skipped across the meadow. Not even having to waste the afternoon traipsing out here to Granny’s flea-bitten cabin could bother me today. Wildflowers lined both sides of the trail like guards. They smell okay, but I’m not wild about wildflowers. They just grow in splotches anywhere they feel like it, and most of the year they’re dead. They should put plastic flowers out here like More and I have in our condo. I hate that Granny has to live way out here in yucky nature instead of in a neat condo in town. I sneezed from the dust and pollen, but had lost my handkerchief Yuck! I had to wipe my nose on one sleeve.

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      Objective: Little Red shuffled through the dust of the meadow trail, bordered by brilliant wildflowers shimmering in the soft breath of early morning air. The sun shone down through a clear blue sky. Her shadow stretched out to the trees lining the meadow’s edge. Her red hood and cape fluttered gently as she walked. Little Red sneezed from the blowing dust and pollen.       Her grandmother also sneezed and sighed as she tucked the covers tight around her chin in her cottage bed. Hot summer wind whistled through the cracks of her rough, wooden walls.       Little Red threw back the red hood on her cape and wiped her nose with her sleeve. A wolf in the line of trees licked his tongue across his lips and smiled

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Omniscient: The rolling forest stretched on for miles, dotted by occasional, small meadows, looking like missing teeth in the forest’s solid mouthful of dark-green trees. Through one of these meadows, a girl in a bright-red hood

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    and cape walked a narrow trail on her way to visit her grandmother, who huddled in bed in her small cottage one mile ahead. Bright splotches of wild flowers dotted the meadow. The girl sneezed and wiped her sleeve across her nose and face. Both girl and grandmother sighed. The grandmother because she felt lonely, the girl because she hated wasting a summer afternoon visiting her sickly grandmother. But the wolf smiled with greedy pleasure. Either the basket of goodies or the girl would be his dinner tonight

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Selecting a single viewpoint character is a powerful way to draw the reader into a story, to make their experience more personal and direct

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A fresh, powerful perspective is one of the best and easiest ways to enliven a static, boring story.

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Omniscient and objective perspectives don’t use a viewpoint character. The writer presents the story to the reader through any and all of the characters. The story is not reported by one of the characters, but by an impartial, objective, unidentified observer.

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One of the simplest and most helpful tips you can give your students is to separate story creation from the mechanical effort of story writing

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often, students have a great idea and then forget it while looking up the spelling of the first word. Nothing dissipates creative energy faster and more completely than the frustration of creative genius forgotten and forever lost.

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The mechanics of writing is difficult work. So is the process of creating a story, although this work is considerably more fun

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Having to do both at the same time often means that students do neither well. Worse, research shows that the part of the brain that controls the mechanics of writing can shut down the creative part of the brain. When push comes to shove, students routinely shove aside creative expression (story creation) in favor of mechanical correctness. Creativity, passion, energy, and originality are all lost for the sake of grammar and spelling.

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Separate these two processes. Create first; write second. Students should be encouraged not to write their first draft. They should say it.

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into a tape recorder.

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There are three significant plusses to taping first drafts. First, students can give their creativity free reign. Nothing encumbers or impedes the creative process. Second, taping a story is an oral activity. Research has shown that saying something improves the richness and detail of the speaker’s images. Each time a student says a story, they create more detailed multisensory images to use when they later write the story.

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Third, taping is time-efficient

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Students can easily afford to record three or four versions of a story, improving their imagery and detail with each version, before proceeding from oral activity to committing their story to paper.

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writing the story, a student can listen to their final taped version one sentence at a time. Their focus then becomes word choice, spelling, and other mechanical considerations for best presenting this one thought.

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story seed

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We have seen that core information about the main character reveals these key story elements

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What students really need is a place to begin, a seed to focus their thinking

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They then need a comprehensive progression of activities to lead them from this seed to a fully developed story

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A story seed doesn’t dictate what the story will be about. It is simply a place begin, a focal point. A seed can be any idea around which to construct a story, the idea from which a story sprouts. Good story seeds have several common characteristics. They must be ideas that are        accessible to all students,        within the experiences of all students,        of interest to all students, and        relevant to all students.       Story seeds are like a jump start for a story. They start a student’s creative engine and accelerate them into story-creation mode

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The cruelest thing teachers can do is to tell their class to write a story about anything they want. Students will then spend 98 percent of the available time spinning their wheels, searching for an idea

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Which character, though? Which conflict? Which struggle? Which goal? A story seed gives students the focal point around which to begin creating character, conflict, struggle, and goal.

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Usually, seeds are situation- or incident-based: ”What would happen if a girl fell down a rabbit hole to another world?”

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“A boy’s friends start turning into frogs

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Two children skipped rocks at the edge of a lake. One rock came skipping back” (from Chris Van Allsburg’s The Mysteries of Harris Burdick)

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A seed precedes the creation of character information.

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All that remains to do is mesh together the individual solutions into an orderly and comprehensive progression of activities to lead students from seed through first draft.

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We have discussed the individual concepts, pieces, problems, and concerns that encumber and misdirect student creative writing

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If character-based story writing is the heart and lifeblood of Write Right, then this progression is the body that surrounds it. This 11-step progression of activities leads students through the writing process, to a complete first draft of their story. It does not include story revision or editing

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This progression is a guide designed to assist your students, not a dictate or mandatory rule designed to regiment them

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there is no need to initiate all the steps of this valuable progression at once

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If you have a class of new writers, or are working with a primary grade, begin simply. For their first few stories, have them define core and sensory character information, identify the story’s ending, define a general sequence of events to overcome chosen obstacles, do several quick exercises to make the story more visual and tangible, and tape and then write the story. You might have students entirely skip theme, viewpoint and perspective, scenes and sequels, and complete character profiles

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As students master these basic steps, add viewpoint and perspective and more complete character profiles. Emphasize the importance of the antagonist and the role of other, supporting characters

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Add theme, suspense, and the story question. Later, add scene cards and sequels and complete the 11-activity progression.

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Finally, after students have completed the first draft, have them systematically evaluate and revise their work (Part III).

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Add new steps as students are ready for them

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encountering a maze of steps and concepts all at once can be overwhelming and counterproductive.

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Oral and physical exercises help students expand and refine their vision of the story material. The formal act of writing does not. Writing is the end product

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1. Plant a seed

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Use prompts, story-starter ideas, story-starter exercises, “write abouts,” “what ifs,” or other methods to generate a general idea, or seed

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2. Create the main character.       Who would be most affected in a story about this seed idea? Who would have the most to lose? Who would risk the most? Who would have the most to gain? Having a character with an obvious and strongly vested interest in the outcome makes the process of creating a compelling story easier. Students should create a main character and the basic five layers of character information: core elements, sensory image, personality, activity, and history

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3. Define a theme and a story question

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Both are tools to help writers structure a story and decide what should, and should not, be included within it.

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What is a story question? A story question is that question that hooks the reader, draws them into the story, and keeps them there until the end. It is the unanswered question that surrounds the entire story. With a good story, students often say that they “have to find out what happens,” that they “need to know how it comes out.” Really, they are saying that they understand the story question and need to have it answered

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Generally, a story question is the goal of the main character expressed in the form of a question: “Once there was a girl named Susan who wanted an ice cream cone.” Susan is the main character. Eating an ice cream cone is her goal. The story question is, “Will Susan get her ice cream cone?”

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Will the main character achieve their goal?

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The story question creates suspense. The reader is literally suspended between question and answer. What makes this suspension gripping and powerful is the amount of tension associated with the question

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Tension is a feeling of anxiety and discomfort within the reader

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When a reader experiences urgent tension, they become highly motivated to relieve it. If the tension comes from a story, the way to relieve this tension is to read the story, hoping that the writer will answer the story question and relieve the burden

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Gradeschool students routinely substitute the word exciting for suspense and tension

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without tension and suspense, there would be no excitement.

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heightens the tension? Risk and danger. Tension is heightened when readers care about a character, and when they

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believe it is likely this character will fail to achieve their goal, and

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perceive that this character must face great risk and danger in trying to achieve their goal.

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The greater the consequences of failure, the greater the probability of failure, the greater the necessity of trying, the greater the danger of trying, the greater the tension

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What is theme? Theme is the subject or topic of the story. A theme is often an emotional or behavioral concept such as greed, generosity, disobedience, acceptance, revenge, and so on. Themes may also be subjects, such as Colonial America, the Civil War, time, mathematics, or the typical daily life of a police officer.

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If readers are to involve themselves enough to read an entire story, the story theme must be relevant and interesting to them. The story question must seem real to the story characters and create suspense and tension for readers. The time to create these elements is now, at the beginning of the story-drafting progression

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Plan story structure

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Before students begin to write, they should use the theme, story question, and core character information to plan the major events that will happen in the story.       From the main character’s goal, choose an exact story ending

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From a list of possible obstacles, choose those few that will actually be used in the story. Maximize the amount of risk and danger that can be associated with each obstacle. Determine the order in which obstacles will be faced and overcome

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Define necessary supporting characters.

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students should consider who else must be in the story to ensure that the main character faces the obstacles, overcomes them, and achieves (or fails to achieve) their goal.

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The most important of these supporting characters is the antagonist. The antagonist, the embodiment of the greatest obstacle the main character must face, is just as important as the main character

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The antagonist should have their own goals and motives, which should give the antagonist good reason to become a major obstacle for the main character.

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find the combination that will be the most powerful and gripping and still allow them to tell the complete story. Who can best tell this story? With whom will the reader most want to identify? Whose viewpoint will create the most interesting story? Whose viewpoint will be most effective in telling the story?

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    7. Map the scenes and sequels

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In general, a scene changes when there is a shift in time, a shift in setting, or a major shift in characters present. A scene constitutes a finite block of action in the story, a complete interaction among characters, an event.       Just like a complete story, each scene        has a scene question,        focuses on character conflict and struggle, and        builds to a scene climax

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Students should take their general story outline from step 4 and lay it out on index cards, one scene per card. These scene cards are a step-by-step guide to the flow of their story, as if, flagstone by flagstone, they are laying out the path a reader must walk to reach the story’s conclusion. The more detailed and specific they are, the easier it will be to write the story. Film makers call this process “story boarding.”

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Number and name each scene. The format I use for these scene cards is shown in figure 6. After naming each scene, I state the purpose of that scene, or what necessary part of the story will happen in that scene. As shown, I also list the        location, or setting, of the scene,        the story characters present in the scene,        the scene question and conflict,        how the scene concludes, or is resolved, and        a one-sentence summary of the scene.       Additional information will be placed into the boxes at the bottom and upper right of the scene cards during editing, when the cards will be used to evaluate the success of each scene and to guide scene revision

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Listing scenes on index cards makes it is easy to test the effect of shuffling and rearranging scenes to tell the story in a different order. It also makes it easy to evaluate the effect of eliminating individual scenes

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A scene is a block of action. Following action, readers need to know how the main character reflects upon and internally reacts to this action. This brief moment of reflection is a sequel

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Scenes tell the reader what happens in a story. Sequels tell the reader what this action means to the main character. Scenes are the “what”; sequels are the “so what.”

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Sequels appear in almost every successful story. However, character reflections are rare in student stories

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    The best solution to this problem is to have students formally design a sequel to each scene. On the back of each scene card, they should answer the following three questions about the events of that scene.       At the end of this scene:       1. How does my main character feel about what happened?       2. What does this scene mean to the character?       3. What does this scene make the character want to do next?

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Scene #1: Timmy is riding his bike and being chased by a big dog. Frightened, Timmy cries and kicks at the dog, who jumps and nips at his leg as he pedals toward home.       Sequel #1: Still trembling and frightened in his room, Timmy decides that he hates dogs and never again wants to be near one.       Scene #2: Timmy’s parents bring home a roly-poly puppy as a family pet. Timmy refuses to hold or touch it. His parents try to force the dog upon him. His older brother laughs because Timmy is so afraid.       Sequel #2: Timmy decides that his family is mean and that they hate him. He decides to run away and find a nicer family.       Scene #3: The next morning, while everyone else is still sleeping, Timmy packs his backpack, grabs some cookies, and sneaks out of the house. He hikes into the hills outside of town, heading toward Donut Falls, one of his favorite places for family outings. It begins to rain. Timmy seeks shelter in an abandoned miner’s cabin. The rotten wood of the floor collapses under Timmy’s weight. He falls and becomes trapped under the beams and floorboards that fall on top of him.       Sequel #3: Instead of panicking, Timmy concludes that this experience will somehow help him find his new family. Only a nice family would come hiking up here and rescue a trapped boy. He lies back, cramped but confident that a nice family will soon come along, rescue him, and love him forever.       Scene #4: Timmy hears scuffling and scratching on the cabin floor above him. He calls out, “Hello! I’m stuck down here. Come and get me.” The shaggy head of a large dog pokes over the edge of the hole Timmy fell through. The dog hops down and sits beside Timmy. It stares at him, tongue sliding in and out over long, yellow teeth as it breathes. The dog begins to bark.

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Scene #6: The search-and-rescue team arrives, having followed the call of their trained rescue dog to the old cabin. Timmy is freed and reunited with his family.

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You probably want to know how Timmy reacts to this reunion with family and puppy, and realize that a wide range of reactions are plausible

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Sequels allow us inside a character to understand them better and feel closer to their unique thought processes. Timmy’s interpretations are never certain, so his reactions are always in doubt. At each sequel, we learn more about how Timmy’s mind works. As readers, we hope at every sequel that Timmy will interpret the action and then internally react the way we want him to, but this outcome is always in doubt. The more doubtful it is, the greater the risk to the characterand the more we want to know what happens.

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Make it real. Make it visual

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Use oral exercises and games to help students make each character and each scene real and vivid, in multisensory detail, in their mind. (If You Can’t See It, You Can’t Write It.) Their image of each character should be as clear and detailed as an image of a family member. Their image of each scene should be as clear and detailed as an image of their own bedroom.

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The typical tendency of most writers is to begin telling a story too early in its plot, and end it too late

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Eliminate every story event up to the first event a reader must see to understand the story. This is the scene where the story should begin

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Students should study their scene cards and ask themselves, What can I eliminate? What must I include? Can I shift background information into later scenes, or into flashback scenes?

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How soon can I stop and still be sure that the reader will understand the ending? Are there scenes or information that I can eliminate from the end? Are there scenes after the climax other than a final sequel? Are they really necessary? Will the story be better if I eliminate them?

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Record the first draft

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Their goal in these oral drafts is not precision. It is not wording. It is not an attempt at precision. All they need do is pour their thoughts, their energy, their passion into the tape recorder. It doesn’t matter if they jump backward and forward through the story, or if they skip portions of the story. These recordings are not performances

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Students should focus on the characters and their own excitement as they record each scene of the story, pretending that they are telling the story to a friend. They should make these first recordings funny, make them wild

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After they have recorded the story, they should listen to it and decide what they like and what they don’t like about this version of the story. After reviewing notes, character profiles, and scene cards, they should record additional drafts, continuing until they are satisfied.

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It’s finally time to write

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Students should listen to their story and make notes about how they want to change or improve it when they put it on paper. Students should listen to a few sentences, or one scene, and stop the tape. As they listen, they should think of different, more powerful verbs that might be used; about details that might be included; and about important character information and the use of dialog

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Then they proceed to the next few sentences, to the next scene. They shouldn’t reread or edit their brief blocks of text. They shouldn’t worry about overall story continuity, pace, or flow. They should focus on writing each block of text as best they can. There will be plenty of time later to fit together all the pieces.  

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Finally, they write.

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Don’t have students agonize about detail and simile; about spelling and sentence structure; about tension, pace, and word choice. Writing the first draft should be energizing, exciting

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Students who write their first draft rather than recording it on tape will find that they must do more revising later than those who did record their first draft on tape.

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each student writer possesses a sizable amount of creativity. All first- and second-graders feel that they are creative. By fifth-grade, though, I have observed that many students have begun to doubt their creative abilities. By middle school, many (if not most) are convinced that they don’t have a creative bone in their body.

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This is nonsense. If you are a living, breathing human being, you create. Period. The real problem is controlling and focusing a rampantly creative imagination

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The problem is that, by convincing themselves that they aren’t creative, many students stop trying to express their creativity. They stop searching for creative outlets.

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At the root of this problem is the definition of the word creativity. Dictionaries typically define creativity as the ability to bring something into existence, to transcend traditional views or modes of thinking. Many in our culture have slipped a “quality” qualifier into their personal definition of creativity. For them, something they bring into existence is creative only if it’s of exceptionally high quality, only if it’s of professional caliber. Creativity has no relation to quality. Quality comes with time, focused practice, and sustained effort. Almost nobody is “exceptionally good” at some activity the first few times they try it

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I believe that creativity is the natural result of two qualities: the willingness to look foolish, and the persistence to look foolish over and over again. Creativity, itself, is a natural human force. Only pride and ego keep us from unleashing our natural creativity

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So many people try something once and quit, saying “Yuck! That was terrible and embarrassing. I won’t try that again!” They never find an outlet for the creative fire burning deep inside. Yet this fire continues to burn. It never dies. Many senior citizens begin painting and writing in their seventies. These are people who never thought they had creativity. They finally overcame their lifelong embarrassment to look foolish, were finally ready to let their creativity flowand flow it does!

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Remind students of Exercise #23, “Guided Visioning” (p. 155), if they doubt their creative abilities. With just a few suggestive words from you and a glance at their own hand, they each created the characters for a story. From their visualization of the inanimate objects in one room of their house, they again each created the characters for a story. They are creative.

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We are all creative. However, a writer cannot create character and story automatically, on demand, every time they snap their fingers. Like a muscle, creativity must be stretched and exercised.

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The brain is divided into two hemispheres. The right side of the brain is the residence of creativity. The left side is the residence of logic.

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I believe that story-writing creativity is more complex than most people think it to be. A smooth, logical plot line is just as creative as a unique and interesting character. Creating stories requires all the mental power a writer can muster.

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It is useful to examine the contribution of each side of the brain to the creation of a story. Exercise #29, “Interrupter” (p. 172), is designed to facilitate this exploration. It is a wonderful, high-energy story game. At its conclusion, students realize that they have created two different sets of stories. One set is right-brain dominant. These stories are riotously fun, silly, meaningless, filled with laughter, and loud. The second set is left-brain dominant. These stories have some semblance of story form, as we have defined itplausible characters, plot, purpose, cause-and-effect relationships between scenesand are much quieter and not nearly as much fun to create or listen to as right-brain stories.

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We think, analyze, organize, and summarize with our left brain. For a story, the left brain is in charge of order, logic, plot, structure, and plausibility. We feel, invent, and create with our right brain. For a story, the right brain is in charge of characterization, humor, energy, passion, whim, and inventiveness

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Kindergartners tell rambling right-brain stories. You soon want to scream, “What’s the point?!” It never occurs to them that there should be a point. Their stories are just for fun. Self-conscious ninth-graders tell rigid, logical stories. You soon want to scream, “Put some life in it! You’re boring me to death!”

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To create a story that works, a writer must engage both sides of their brain for contributions

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First drafts are for passion and energy. They are right-brain dominant. Revisions are for precision. They are left-brain dominant

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Younger students tend to have a right-brain orientation. Sometime around the fourth to sixth grades, most students flip to a left-brain orientation, which they will maintain for the rest of their lives

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Writing skills refer to the mechanics of writing. Practice writings should focus on these skills, especially word choice, clarity and economy, thought

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organization, effective description and detail, and thought expression. Developing these skills will help students express and communicate a story once they have created it.

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Practice writings should not focus on the formation of ideas.

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the purpose of a writing exercise should be to practice writing, not to practice story creation

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1. Always keep your pen moving (or your fingers, when using a keyboard).       Write furiously and continuously. Don’t pause to think, assess, or plan. Let the ideas flow freely from mind to paper. Write continuously throughout the allotted time.       2. Be specific.       Strive toward more specific descriptions of characters, traits, actions, reactions, emotions, things, places. Be specific in your writing. Be specific in your thinking.       3. Don’t analyze.       Let your writing flow unimpeded. Don’t stop and reread. Don’t edit. Don’t even stop to plan the future direction of your writing. Focus only on the sentence at hand, only on the word at hand, and keep writing.       4. Don’t worry about grammar, spelling, and punctuation.       Don’t stop to correct subjectverb mismatches, sentence fragments, misspellings, forgotten periods. Keep writing. There will be plenty of time to correct mistakes later, but there won’t be time later to write so freely.       5. You have permission to write the worst junk in the world.

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6. Go for the jugular.       Practice writings are a time to write aggressively and honestly. Don’t try to be kind and polite, and don’t try to write toward cooperative, stress-less situations. Steer practice writings toward strong emotions and raw conflict. Remember, stories are about characters in struggle, about characters in conflict, facing risk and danger. If you practice focusing on strong emotions and the power of conflict in your writing, you will be much better equipped to write successful stories

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7. Never apologize

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Use a simple, timed format for practice writings.

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An additional exercise designed to develop story-writing skills is Exercise #31, “The 30-Second Story” (p. 177). It is the second of the two most powerful and effective storydevelopment exercises I have encountered (the other is Exercise #26, “One-on-One-onOne-on-One,” introduced previously

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Students typically hate to edit their stories. Their excitement and energy for the story were poured into the draft and have now faded. They want to be finished with the story and do something new

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the real culprit is that they don’t know how to edit successfully, and that they have never had positive, successful editing experiences. They reread their story, recognize and are aghast at the myriad deficiencies, and stare in frustration, not knowing how to fix it.

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Editing isn’t difficult work. It can appear overwhelming, though, if the writer doesn’t follow a proven system, a methodical progression for approaching the task. The trick is to do the editing one step at a time, rather than all at once. The real trick, though, is knowing which step to do first, so that editing won’t require continual backtracking, and so that editing won’t cause the writer to cut words and sentences they have just carefully edited to perfection.

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The purpose of editing is to ensure that the words of the story deliver the ideas, effects, and meanings intended by the writer. There are so many story elements to review during the editing process that it is impossible to consider them all at once.

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Successful story editors address individual elements one at a time. This is easier and more efficient.

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I have divided these elements into three groups: those that relate to the story as a whole, those that relate to individual scenes, and those that relate to specific word choices.

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Usually, only a small number of story elements account for most of the problems. I have included a comprehensive list of editing tasks

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Does the Story Deliver?       Successful editing begins not with corrections but with an evaluation of the entire story. The writer can then correct story-wide problems and systematically correct smaller and smaller elements of that storyscenes, paragraphs, sentences, and words.

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First, have students set their story aside for a while (I try to set my stories aside for at least a week). No one can evaluate the words they have just written. The writer won’t see the words on the page, but rather the ideas and images they held in their mind when they wrote

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These images are always perfect. To evaluate the written words, the writer must wait for these images to fade.

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Have students write a story and hand it in. Weeks later, hand back the stories and lead students through the process of evaluation and revision. Students now need to evaluate their writing, to ensure that the story keeps its promises and delivers the power and delight they intended. Using a careful editing process, it is time to make the story as good as it can be.

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A writer’s first and best evaluative tool is to read the story aloud. This is not some quiet mumbling that the writer can barely hear. No. The story must be read as if the writer were reading it to an audience. It must be read with all the expression and energy the writer would give the story if they were reading it on-stage at a Young Authors award ceremony.

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The writer should mark each section they feel like rushing through to reach an upcoming exciting part of the story. These are sections that need revision. The writer should mark the parts that excite them. These are sections that work well

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The writer should note the emotions they feel as they read each scene. Are these the emotions that the writer wanted readers to feel? If so, terrific. If not, it means that character reactions and descriptions in these parts of the story need revision.

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Does the dialog sound real and interesting? Will a reader recognize and want to pursue the story question? The writer must listen to the words they have written and consider what they like about them and what they wish were different

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Students should have others read their story and then ask these readers specific questions to determine whether the various story elements affect readers the way the student intended

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Here are a few suggestions:        What do you think this story is about?        What do you think is the best single part or aspect of this story?        What is your favorite aspect of this story?        Who is your favorite character? Why?        What is your favorite scene? Why?        What is your image of the main character? What are their wants, goals, needs, fears, and problems?        What would you change if you had to? (The student won’t necessarily make these changes, but readers typically identify the parts they like least as being parts that they would change.)        What would you cut if you had to cut the length of this story by 20 percent?        What new information and scenes would you add to this story if you had to?        What scene or aspect of this story in your opinion worked best?        Where is this story most exciting?

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In what two places do you think this story should be more exciting?

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However, this information from readers may not tell the writer how to fix the problems. Often, readers will say that the story lacks excitement and tension, that the story doesn’t really seem to be about anything, or that specific scenes are boring. How can the writer find and fix specific story elements based on such general comments?

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The answer is to evaluate each of the major story elements one at a time to determine if they carry their own weight. Fixing individual story elements is easy.

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Have students map the scenes of their story on scene cards

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Have them evaluate and rate each scene for five criteriamood, action, tension, humor, and emotionas follows:

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There are times when a writer wants high levels of action, tension, humor, or emotions. There also must be times, though, when these levels are low, to allow the reader some relief. A writer can only determine whether the story flows as it should if they rate each scene honestly.

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Is tension established early in the story? Does tension increase scene by scene toward the climax scene? Is tension at its peak during the climax? Has tension dissipated by the story’s ending? This is the most common pattern for tension in a story.

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Too much tension too early means that the story can’t build toward a climax. If there is too little tension at the beginning, the writer risks boring and losing the reader. If tension peaks before the climax, the climax will seem uninteresting and anticlimactic.

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If there is too little tension just before and during the climax scene, the reader won’t appreciate the significance of this pivotal story event and will feel dissatisfied.

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Students should evaluate their high-action scenes. Does the presence of action in these scenes increase, or at least maintain, the story tension? If not, the action might not be contributing to the story. Why is this action essential to the story? Could it be cut? Are character reactions to, and feelings about, the action included in the scene? Is the action clearly an essential part of overcoming a risky and dangerous obstacle? The general pattern should be for a rise in action to create a more important rise in tension. Action and tension should match well throughout the story

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Students should evaluate the pattern of humor throughout their story. Certainly, humor isn’t mandatory in a story. Still, it is one of the most attractive and appealing elements for a reader. Everyone wants to laugh. Humor also provides valuable relief from the tension and conflict in a story, leaving the reader refreshed and ready to appreciate character struggle anew.  

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Is there humor in the story? Is it concentrated in a few scenes, or spread evenly throughout the story? Having a few intensely funny scenes can be wonderfully engaging for the reader. It is generally better, though, if some humor is spread throughout most of the scenes. Small blocks of isolated, powerful humor are intrusive and feel inappropriate in an otherwise serious story. Typically, the reader will be less appreciative of the long stretches of story between these blocks of humor.

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A smattering of humor throughout the story helps set up the intensely funny moments. This is not a rule, but it is something worth considering.

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The same is true for the intensity of emotion from scene to scene. If every scene has an emotional rating of 10, the reader is likely to shove the story aside in need of an emotional break.

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Some scenes should be calmer so that readers can appreciate the gripping emotions of other scenes. Sequels are excellent spots to insert calmer moments into a story.

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A reader can remain scared for only so long. Then fright becomes boredom and the reader no longer empathizes with the frightened feelings of the characters.

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The general pattern should be to regularly vary the mood, so that the reader will be able to appreciate and vicariously experience every mood of the story

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Readers usually want to empathize with the main character. To do this, what the reader feels (the mood of the scene) should match what the main character feels.

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Is there a reason for the scene to have a mood different than the emotions the main character feels in that scene?

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The goal of this evaluation is twofold. First, it reveals if a lack of story effectiveness can be attributed to simple problems with the flow and patterns of action, tension, humor, emotion, and mood. This is often the case. Once such problems are corrected, the story leaps to vivid life. Second, it allows the writer to judge whether the flow and patterns of these story elements match what they envisioned and intended when they drafted the story

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Having looked at the shape and effectiveness of the overall story, it will now be beneficial to consider the major storywide elements, one by one

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We’ll do this storywide check by asking a baker’s dozen of questions that each student writer can use to assess and adjust the major elements of their stor

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These litanies of questions are guides to help student writers decide whether particular elements of their story need work during editing

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2. Is there a story theme?       Is this theme relevant to the reader and the main character, and integral to the story? Is it an ongoing aspect of the story and satisfactorily explored?

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1. Is there a story question?       Is it clearly presented? Is it presented early in the story? Is this question resolved at the end of the story, but not until the very end? Is the resolution of this question in doubt throughout the story? Does the reader feel suspended between this question and its answer throughout the story? If the story question isn’t suspenseful, make sure there is a recognizable character goal, that the character really cares about this goal, and that the magnitude, the risk and danger, of story obstacles is great enough to cast the story outcome into doubt.

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3. Is the main character compelling and interesting?       If not, check the core layer of character information and judge whether it has been adequately developed and translated onto the written page. Are there unique, relevant, and interesting details for the other layers of character information? Does the main character express interest and passion? Laughter and excitement? Do they care about anything, in general, and about their own goals in particular? Do they risk something to achieve them? Do they face (and acknowledge) danger and fear? Do they struggle? Is there something at stake when they struggle? Are their emotions and feelings included in the story? Is the reader allowed to see their internal reactions to events and how they interpret events, through sequels?

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4. Does the dialog work?       Does it contain vital story information? Does it sound like real conversation? Does the dialog reveal the inner nature of the character speaking? Is the sound and wording of the dialog consistent with the personality and profile of the character? Does the dialog ramble, or is it concise and compressed? Is the dialog forceful, and does it take advantage of opportunities to emphasize conflict?

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Often, obstacles can be made to appear more imposing by having characters react more strongly to them. If every character is justifiably afraid of facing some obstacle, the reader will be afraid, too. If the main character doesn’t break a sweat and shows no fear or concern while confronting an obstacle, the reader will be equally indifferent to this obstacle and bored by the lack of struggle against it. When the main character reacts strongly, the reader will, too.

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    5. Are the obstacles and conflict sufficiently compelling?       It is the obstacles and resulting conflict that allow the main character to rise to hero status. Are there enough obstacles to do this? Do they block the main character from reaching their goal? Are they as formidable as possible? Does the main character struggle and suffer enough to create gripping tension? Is all the potential risk and danger associated with the obstacles presented as convincingly and threateningly as possible? Combined, are the obstacles great enough to convince the reader that the main character will likely fail to reach their goal?

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Extra scenes may need to be added just to show readers how gargantuan the obstacles, the flaws, and problems really are

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Some scenes may need to be rewritten to better reveal to the reader just how risky and dangerous the conflicts really are.

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the goal is universal: A story should be about risky, dangerous conflict faced at overwhelming odds against unbeatable foes.

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6. Are the struggles exciting?

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      Are there struggles? Are the struggles relevant to the main character’s goal? Are they dangerous to the main character? Are they risky? (Is it likely the main character will fail?) Is the main character forced to truly struggle, or are the obstacles overcome too easily? Are the struggles central to the progression of the story, and to its events? Stories are about conflict and struggle. Without grand struggles, there is no story.

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7. Is the antagonist a worthy opponent?  

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Is there an antagonist? Does the antagonist block the main character from reaching their goal? Has the antagonist been developed into a terrible, unbeatable adversary? Is it clear what the antagonist wants and why they want it? Is the antagonist the last obstacle to be overcome? Will the reader be convinced that the antagonist is more powerful than the main character, and that there is little hope of the main character defeating their opponent?

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The easiest way to perk up a lackluster, tensionless story is to increase the risk and danger to the main character of facing the antagonist. This may require the writer to add scenes, or further develop existing scenes, to show the reader just how dangerous the antagonist really is. This may require the writer to rewrite other characters’ reactions to, and feelings about, the antagonist. This may require the writer to increase the conflict between the main character and the antagonist. Regardless, when a writer builds the power of the antagonist, they automatically build not only the power of the main character, but also suspense and tension.

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8. Is the plot effective?

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Does the story flow logically from scene to scene? Is it understandable? Does the plot line, or sequence of events, effectively tell the story? Are any essential events missing? Do events occur in the most effective order? Are any events not essential to telling the story? Can they be cut? Does the order of events create an effective shape for the flow of tension and emotion throughout the story?       One effective way to evaluate a plot line is to look for cause-and-effect relationships between the scenes. The events of one scene should set forces into motion that cause the events of future scenes

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9. Does the climax work?       Is there a climax? Does the story steadily build toward the climax? Is that climax satisfying? Does the main character overcome the antagonist, or final and central obstacle (the one with greatest jeopardy), at the story’s climax?

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Here are nine schemes to rejuvenate a disappointing climax and build the story into a spine-tingling thriller:       1. Early in the story, establish the antagonist as being more powerful, threatening, and dangerous

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2. Increase what is at stake in the confrontation between the main character and the antagonist. Instead of having a story about whether the antagonist will succeed in stealing an ice cream cone, change the antagonist’s goal so that the confrontation is about whether the antagonist will succeed in taking control of an entire neighborhood of a cityor even the entire galaxy.

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3. Include the main character’s reaction to, and dread in anticipation of, the confrontation with the antagonist. If the main character is terrified of the antagonist, the reader will be, too

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4. Improve and expand the description of the struggle at the moment of climactic confrontation

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5. Continually increase the power and danger of the antagonist as the story progresses. As the antagonist becomes more menacing and all-powerful, tension and interest are increased. Lucas used this technique to build Darth Vader in the Star Wars trilogy. Tolkien used it to build Sauron in the Lord of the Rings trilogy

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6. Create a pause in action and emotional stress just before the climax. Insert one quiet, reflective scene just before the climax to establish a contrast to the upcoming action and emotional turmoil. Remind the reader of the frailty or flaws of the main character and of what is at stake in the upcoming confrontation. This scene with opposite values of action and emotion makes the climax action and emotion more powerful

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7. Use foreshadowing to help the reader anticipate the upcoming confrontation. Fore-shadowing is the placing of hints, or guideposts, early in a story about important events to come

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For example, early in a story, the main character is told, “You won’t have too much trouble sneaking into the wizard’s castle to recover the stolen crownas long as you’re out of there before dark. Whatever you do, don’t get caught in the wizard’s castle after nightfall!” Every reader now knows that the climax will be a confrontation with the wizard in his castle after dark. How do readers know this? The writer used foreshadowing to suggest the most dangerous climax possible.

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8. Don’t end the climax scene too soon. Readers have been waiting all story long for this moment. Give the reader a chance to revel in the wonder and glory of this moment. Include not only the actions of all major characters, including the antagonist, but also their reactions to the outcome of this most important conflict

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9. Use scene cards to reshuffle scenes and reshape the action and tension in the early scenes of the story. Action and tension should begin at low levels and build slowly and steadily toward the climax

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10. Is the ending satisfying and apparent?       If the ending answers a story question for which the resolution has been in doubt, it will feel satisfying to the reader. Does the ending clarify the theme? Does it conclude something about the theme? Is the reader left with a final reflection (sequel) from the main character

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Is the ending logical and yet surprising? If readers know all along, with no uncertainty or doubt, exactly how a story will end, there will be no suspense and tension. There will be no reason to continue reading the story. Something must be in doubt. There must be some element of impending surprise maintained throughout the story and revealed at the ending.

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Still, the ending must be logical. It must follow from the events of the story. The plot must lead toward this conclusion. Once a reader has read the ending, they should be able to recall the story and say, “Ah, yes. Of course. I should have known all along.” The writer must keep the reader in doubt, in suspense, so that they must read the ending to be sure.

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If the ending seems flat and insufficient, check first the goal, the story question, and related suspense and tension. Clarify the story question and place its resolution in greater doubt. Next, ensure that the final sequel satisfies the goals and needs of the main character. Next, rewrite the opening paragraphs to better set up the ending. Finally, ensure that the ending is believable and plausible.

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11. Are the perspective and viewpoint ideal?       Is the story adequately told through the chosen perspective and viewpoint, or do they force the exclusion of some critical information? Are the perspective and viewpoint used consistently throughout the story?

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Changing either perspective or viewpoint usually requires completely rewriting a story. However, if the writer suddenly realizes that the tale could be much better told through some other character’s eyes, the effort is often worthwhile.

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12. Is the writer’s voice appropriate for the story?

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We have not yet discussed voice. It is an advanced writing concept. Still, voice can affect the readability and success of a story.

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There are two separate, writing-related meanings for this term. The first, which is the more important for student writers, refers to the tone and style with which a story is written. Tone and style create the mood, feeling, or impression of a story.

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Different stories should have different voices, even if written by the same writer. The voice of the writing should match the content of the story. It is most important for period pieces, or for stories about a unique environment with a unique dialect, which carry much of the richness and flavor of the story. Just as dialog must match the character to sound real and convincing, so must the language of a story match the subject, time period, and setting of a story to sound real and convincing.

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second meaning for voice refers to a natural style of writing that each writer settles into over time, to a writer’s unique way of organizing language and story. Students need not concem themselves with this second meaning. This voice develops slowly over years of writing

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For tension to exist, a character must care about some goal and be willing to risk something important while attempting to overcome whatever obstacles stand in their way. The goal, struggle, and risk and danger must be real to the character and relevant to the reader

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13. Do the tension and suspense propel the reader through the story?

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There are additional places to develop tension. It can be increased by emphasizing the limitations of the main character. If a writer doesn’t want to, or can’t make the antagonist more powerful and more dangerous, the same effect is achieved by reminding the reader of how frail and inadequate for the challenge the main character is.

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Readers develop their feelings for a story through the feelings and reactions of the various characters. Do the characters feel the tension and anxiety? Are they nervous, unsure? Do they show it and say it? If they do, the reader will feel the tension more keenly.

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Tension is born of conflict. Conflict is implied by struggle, obstacles, risk, and danger. Increase the conflict between story characters (even friends or partners) and the tension is increased. Conflict can (and some would say should) exist in every interaction between story characters. Don’t automatically confine the characters to being cooperative and passive. They can be demanding and pushy. It’s genuine for them to want what they want and not be willing to settle for less.

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Writers tend to steer conversations and stories around seemingly trivial character discrepancies and arguments. Search each scene for even minor opportunities to increase real and potential conflict for the main character, thus increasing tension

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Conflict isn’t just fist fighting. When some character grumbles and sneers just enough, so that the reader suspects they might not cooperate with the main character next time, tension is still increased.

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Finally, the use of epiphany and irony can increase reader tension.

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Do the Scenes Dellver?       Your students followed every step of A Better Recipe to produce a completed first draft. They have just spent days evaluating and reworking the major story elements. Yet their story still doesn’t have the excitement and power they had hoped it would

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It’s just time to shift to the next step in the editing process, time to look within story scenes to judge their effectiveness. Scenes are the building blocks of a story. Each scene must work as a separate unit, like a solid cement block, before it can be cemented with other scenes to form a story wall. One or two weak blocks can cause an entire wall to collapse. Each individual scene must do its job.

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A scene is like a mini-story. It is a finite block of action, or character interaction. Each scene has a scene question, which is answered at the scene’s ending

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There are characterbased goals for a scene. Each scene has obstacles that block the scene goal. There is conflict, tension, suspense, and resolution within each scene. The writer must treat each scene as an individual unit. The scene must have a purpose. Some conflict or struggle must be undertaken and resolved within each scene. The scene must reach some conclusion that moves the story forward.

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Scenes are like the separate subsystems of a carthe engine, transmission, steering, cooling, fuel-delivery, electronics, and electrical systems. The overall goal is to make the car move. No one subsystem does that. Each subsystem does only a particular task of the

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overall job. The car moves only when each subsystem does its unique task and also meshes with the other subsystems to work as a whole.

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Now it is time for writers to ask themselves a litany of questions to determine whether individual scenes work as separate units. We will revisit some previously discussed story elements, but with a new focus upon scenes.

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1. The opening scene.       No scene is more important than the opening scene. If a reader doesn’t like this scene, they will not read further to see others. Does the story begin when story events are already in progress, launching the reader into the middle of the action? If the opening paragraphs describe background events and occur before the story events begin, can these paragraphs be cut so that the story does begin in the middle of the action?

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Does the story begin at the best place to intrigue the reader, stimulating curiosity and suspense? Could the story begin later? Does the opening scene hook the reader and make them need to see how the story ends? Does it create unanswered questions that make a reader want to continue reading?

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Does the opening scene create an accurate impression of the overall tone and mood of the story? Is it visually appealing? Does it create a sense of the setting for the story? Does it introduce the main character and their goal? (This isn’t essential, but a good idea in a short story.) Does it build tension and hint at upcoming struggle? Does it introduce the story theme? Does it set up the final scene? Does it foreshadow the climax? (Again, not essential, but it’s an engaging bonus.)

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This is a substantial job for one scene to do, which is why the opening scene is typically rewritten more than any other.

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If the opening scene grabs the reader’s interest and draws them into the story, it has fulfilled its most important task. A writer’s job, though, is to hold a reader’s interest throughout the entire story

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The keys to a successful opening scene (one that locks a reader into a story and makes them need to read it to the ending) are to focus on the first impression of the main character, to establish the importance of their goal, and to establish, or at least foreshadow, the great conflict and struggle that lie between the main character and their goal.

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There are two things a reader craves from the final scene. The first is a final sequel. That is, they want a chance to see how the main character internally reacts to the climax, to learn what this character now feels and thinks (concerning topics such as the theme) and how this character now views him- or herself

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    2. The final scene.       The final scene is everything beyond the climax scene. The question a writer must ask about their story material is, How much of the information included after the climax scene is really necessary?

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The second is a definite answer to the story question. The desire to answer this question has carried the reader through the entire story. Now they want to know, What’s the answer? Does the character achieve their goal?

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Does the final scene also tie up any loose ends created during the story? If not, the writer must decide if it’s acceptable to leave a few unresolved threads hanging in the reader’s mind

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If there is any other information in the final scene, the writer must ensure that it is absolutely necessary

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3. The climax scene.

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Is there such a scene in the story? Does it occur just before the ending of the story? If not, why not?

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In the grip of climactic action, writers often forget to consider setting, character, and detail. Is the physical setting of this scene well enough established so that the reader can clearly visualize it? Is there too much description, slowing the pace of this highly charged scene? Does the scene include character reactions? Is the crucial action of the scene clearly presented and described? Is the resolution of the action clear to the reader?

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To heighten the reader’s tension and excitement, writers typically want to make the climax a fast-paced scene, or one that reads quickly. To do this, writers often rely on shorter sentences that are simple, direct, and forceful

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have students assess their own climax scene. Have they taken advantage of using short, simple sentences to quicken the pace and increase the tension of this critical scene? Also, does the resolution of this scene feel satisfying and jubilant to the reader? This is the main character’s grand triumph (unless the story is about the character’s failure to reach their goal, in which case the reader usually feels compassion and concern).

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4. Story budget

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The writer’s goal should be to find the weakest scenes, characters, and events in the story. One way to do this is to put the story on a tight story budget. Have students pretend that they are a Hollywood movie producer who wants to make a movie of their story but needs to shoot the movie at minimal cost.

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Each new setting, like a movie set, is very expensive. Each action and special-effects sequence costs big bucks. Each character, like a movie star, needs to be paid. Can the writer reduce their story budget?

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Can several different scenes occur in the same setting? This would save the extra words necessary to describe a new setting. Can any action sequences be eliminated or simplified without decreasing story tension? Is each character really necessary? Necessary enough that the writer can afford to pay them from a tight budget? Can several supporting characters be combined into a single character, or altogether eliminated and replaced by narration? The words necessary to describe a new character, as well as the reader energy necessary to remember an extra face, will be saved.

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Remind your students that their goal is to tell a story as efficiently and effectively as possible. The simpler these story elements are, the more effective the story will be

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    5. Scene budgets

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Have students find two scenes they would cut if they had to cut something.

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Why did they choose these scenes? Are they necessary? Could the story survive without them? If so, maybe they should be cut. If not, why were they chosen? Are they weak? Do they kill story tension? Are they awkward?

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These two scenes (if they shouldn’t be altogether cut) are the first candidates for rewriting. Is there a scene question for each? Is the resolution of this question in doubt throughout the scene? Is there conflict in the scene? Is the scene ending flat and lackluster? Are the transitions confusing?

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6. Sequels

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To become involved in a story, the reader needs to feel that they understand and empathize with the main character. Sequels and character reactions are two powerful ways to achieve this feeling of reader intimacy and understanding. We have already checked the story for the presence of character reactions. Now it is time to examine sequels.

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Are there sequels to the major scenes of the story? Does each sequel flow logically from the previous scene? Does it reveal how the main character feels about and interprets the previous scene? Do the events of the next scene flow logically from the main character’s resolution in the sequel?       If sequels do their job, the reader is kept in constant empathy with the thoughts and feelings of the main character

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7. Balance

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Check for balance among scenes. Action, length, humor, dialog, tension, emotion, and description should not be forced evenly into every scene, but neither should any of these elements be concentrated unduly into one scene.

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If one scene is much longer than any other, try to split it into two scenes. If one scene has all the action, consider reorganizing the story to spread out that action. There may be good reason to concentrate one or more of these story elements into a particular scene. In successful stories, though, it is more common for them to be spread throughout the story.

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‘Perfect” balance is neither necessary nor even desirable. However, the writer should have good reason for any imbalance they create. If a story seems awkward, if it doesn’t flow smoothly, balancing the elements and scenes might solve the problem. The ultimate guide in making these balance decisions is to ask, What will be best for the story?

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8. Cause and effect

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This is a plot check. Just as scenes create sequels and sequels lead character and reader into the next scene, so too must the events in one scene cause the events in later scenes. Is there a logical progression from scene to scene? If a particular scene is removed, do other scenes still make sense and tell the story? If they do, then why is that particular scene necessary? Could it be cut? Is there any part of the plot that doesn’t logically follow from previous events? Does the flow of the story make sense?

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9. Tension and suspense

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Just as a story must create tension and suspense that holds the reader until the ending, each scene must create its own tension and suspense that are resolved at the scene closing. Does each scene have a scene question for which the resolution is in doubt? That is, is there something that must happen during the scene that, as the scene opens, the reader thinks may likely not happen? Is something significant at risk in the outcome of the scene question?

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Scene tension is relieved at the end of the scene when the scene question is answered, just as story tension is relieved at the end of the story when the story question is answered. If too much tension is relieved at the end of a scene, the reader might feel relieved enough to put down the story.

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Does tension build throughout the course of the scene toward the scene climax? Is there enough conflict and confrontation in the scene to create both tension and a scene climax? It is just as essential to create tension within a scene as it is to create storywide tension. However, there is a risk

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This risk is especially great in scenes with high levels of tension and action. The writer must ensure that story tension will still carry the reader beyond the end of such scenes. Once the writer ensures that tension develops in each scene, they must evaluate scene closings.

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    10. Scene closings

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tension, character emotion, and action all naturally sink to low levels at the end of each scene, or block of action. The lower these levels sink, the more difficult it is to rebuild them for the next scene. This makes scene closings critically important.

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They must create a satisfying, tension-relieving conclusion and, at the same time, reestablish storywide tensions, fears, and doubts for the reader, to prevent suspense and tension from sinking too low

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How does a writer perform this balancing act? It is easier than students might think. R. L. Stine, in his Goosebumps series, is a master at ending each chapter, or scene, by creating new tension and suspense. There are more than 500 chapter endings in this series. All are worth studying

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Here are eight techniques that can help prevent “story droop” at the end of a scene:       1. Remind the main character (and the reader) of the greater obstacles that must still be confronted.       2. Focus the final thought of the scene on the frailty (flaws) and losses of the main character.       3. Increase risk as the scene closes. Show how the scene’s resolution creates more obstacles, more risk and danger, for the main character.       4. Introduce a new source of tension (Stine’s favorite technique) in the last lines of the scene. Have something happen as the scene closes that creates a problem for the main character.       5. Reveal an epiphany or irony (discussed shortly) that increases risk and danger for the main character.       6. Foreshadow future problems and dangers.       7. Include a strong display of emotion by one or more character as the scene closes.       8. Quickly lead the reader into a sequel focusing on the character’s dilemmas.       Tension and suspense should be major concerns for every writer. They must be built and tended like campfires. Though a scene is ending, tension and suspense must not be allowed to burn out.

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11. Transitions

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Transitions are the lines of text that lead the reader out of one scene and assuredly into the next. Are the transitions clear? Concise? Brief? Are they consistent with the tone and mood of the story? Do they kill the energy and pace of the story?

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12. Epiphany and irony

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An epiphany is a sudden realization by a character, a flash of insight. Epiphanies are common in stories. However, student writers often overlook them and fail to develop them into a powerful story element.

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What does an epiphany look like?       Bill has developed a new kind of computer program and wants to open a company. He gets his good friend, Tony, to help him, confiding in Tony every step of the way. Countless problems and setbacks arise to slow the opening of this company and the release of Bill’s new program. Bill suddenly realizes that Tony is causing the problems, not helping Bill try to solve them. Tony is working for a competitor and is trying to keep Bill from completing his program so that the other company can release their version first

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Bill’s insight is an epiphany. It is a powerful moment in the story. The more Bill trusts Tony and shares secrets with him, the more damaging to Bill’s future this betrayed trust is, the more powerful the epiphany becomes

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An epiphany occurs when both reader and character suddenly realize the truth, and that they have misunderstood and misinterpreted story events.

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There are three parts to an epiphany: the setup, the trigger, and the moment of epiphany. The setup allows the character to misunderstand a situation, another character, or an event. The character then acts on their misunderstanding. This action must be harmful to the character, and must create jeopardy for them. Often, as with Bill and Tony, the misunderstanding is the exact opposite of the truth. The trigger is some specific event or evidence that reveals to the character their erroneous thinking. The moment of epiphany, or moment of insight, is the moment the character realizes the truth.

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To make an epiphany more powerful and effective, build the misunderstanding, the setup. The more secrets and information Bill shares with Tony, the more he trusts Tony and follows his advice, the greater the impact of the epiphany will be.

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Use the misunderstanding to create greater and greater jeopardy for the main character, until the truth is finally revealed at the moment of epiphany

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A writer can also add tension and suspense by delaying the character’s moment of epiphany after the trigger. Bill finds the evidence that proves Tony is a traitor, but Bill doesn’t realize the truth as quickly as does the reader. For a while, he continues to treat Tony as a trusted friend. The reader will be transfixed, aghast by the enormity of Bill’s misunderstanding, and wondering if Bill will ever figure it out.

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epiphany can be used as a story-planning tool. A story can be built around an epiphany. More commonly, though, the writer realizes during review and editing that they have an epiphany in their story, and then revises the story to take advantage of this powerful element.

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Dramatic irony is a close cousin of epiphany. The major difference is that an irony does not require any character realization. An irony is an event that proves to be the reverse of what was expected. Readers love ironic twists

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What would the Bill-and-Tony story look like with an irony?       Tony tries throughout the story to destroy Bill’s program and company. In the end, though, Tony’s efforts accidentally uncovered the one fatal flaw in Bill’s computer program. Bill perfected his program and became rich and successful

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An irony also has three parts. First, the character misinterprets a situation, another character, or an event. Second, the character acts on this misinterpretation. Third, the character experiences an unexpected consequence or outcome.

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Usually, but not always, the reader knows about the setup for the irony. They are allowed to know that the character is misinterpreting something. The final outcome of the irony may be what the reader expected, or it may be something even they didn’t expect. This outcome, though, must be plausible and logical once the reader knows all the facts.

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Have students search their stories for the seeds of epiphanies and ironies. If a student finds one in their story, they should immediately examine earlier scenes to find opportunities to build the setup. Next (for an epiphany), they should develop and emphasize the trigger, an important story moment. Finally, they should develop and emphasize the character’s realization of the truth (the moment of epiphany), or the unexpected outcome (the ironic twist).

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13. Foreshadowing

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Foreshadowing is a writing technique for hinting to the reader, or providing them with clues about upcoming events. Foreshadowing builds tension by allowing the reader to more accurately anticipate some future climactic event.

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For example, just before a knight slays a small dragon, it hisses, “You can kill me, but my brother is 10 times my size, breathes white-hot fire, and cannot be hurt by metal swords.” The dragon didn’t need to tell the knight this. Had the dragon died in silence, story events would not have been affected. The dragon’s final statement is foreshadowing.

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Student writers should not attempt to foreshadow more than two future events in a story (one event is preferable). The reader will become confused if foreshadowing clues require them to think about too many future events. Still, foreshadowing is a powerful technique for directing the reader’s attention to upcoming climactic events and giving them plenty of time to worry about the outcome of these events.

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Do the Words Deliver?

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The story works. The scenes work individually and collectively. Yet the story is still boring. What did students do wrong? Probably nothing.

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There is still one more level of editing to perform. Photographers don’t take pictures of an object. They photograph light. Writers don’t write stories. They write words. Before editing and revision can be complete, writers must examine the words and sentences they have constructed to judge whether they effectively and efficiently communicate the story to the reader. The time to do this check is after the writer has organized the story and its scenes into final form.

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Here are 16 word-related areas to check.

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1. Sentences

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Just as speakers must vary tone and pace, so writers must vary sentence length and structure.

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Does sentence length vary throughout the scenes and story? Is the construction varied (simple, compound, complex, etc.)? Are the sentences shorter and more direct during exciting action sequences? (This is one easy way to build tension and increase the pace of the story during these scenes.)

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How many active and passive sentences are in the story? In a passive sentence, the subject is being acted upon. (“The book was dropped on the table by John.“) In an active sentence, the subject does the acting. (“John dropped the book on the table.“) Active sentences carry more energy and immediacy than passive sentences. Too many passive sentences make a scene seem flat and lifeless

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Are the sentences clear and concise? Or are some sentences bloated with nonessential words and information?

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2. Verbs

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Verbs carry the motion and action of a story. Verbs connect the individual images into a single, flowing narrative. Verbs also can be a form of detail. Strong, active verbs provide precise descriptions of actions and movements, creating important visual detail

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Are they strong, descriptive, forceful verbs that carry an exact image of the action and (if a character is the subject) an exact image of the character’s emotional state while acting?

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Do the verbs alone paint an accurate picture of the flow of the story?

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Are there any passive verbs and verbs of state that can be replaced by active, action verbs?

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Can the reader understand what is happening from reading only the verbs?

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It is often effective (and fun) to extend the range of verbs outside their normal context, to create a uniquely detailed image for the reader. Instead of writing, “He combed his hair with a comb” (common and uninteresting), write, “He raked his hair with the comb.” The image is much stronger

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    3. Adverbs

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The infamous adverb modifies a verb and usually ends with -ly. Some writers believe that they should be altogether eliminated. I disagree. Adverbs can play a role in creating accurate, detailed images of motion, movement, and action. The problem is that they tend to be overused. The real culprit is weak, vague verbs, which require the support of adverbs to prop them up and communicate a vivid image. Strong, precise verbs usually do not.

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Here is an example: “The king walked angrily into his chambers and sat heavily upon the gilded throne.” Note the two verbs: walked and sat. Both are weak and vague, and both require adverbs, angrily and heavily, to create a vivid image of the action. Here is the same sentence with stronger verbs: “The king stormed into his chambers and slumped upon the gilded throne.” Adverbs are no longer needed. The verbs stormed and slumped themselves create a vivid image.

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Have students mark each adverb in their story. For each, they should check the verb it modifies. Is there a stronger verb that would eliminate the need for an adverb?

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4. Detail

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Detail creates reality. We have addressed this previously. Now it is time for a final detail check. First, is there enough detail to accurately convey multisensory images of the places, characters, and events of the story? Are there characters or scenes that are not adequately described?

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is the detail effective? Does it uniquely describe the places, characters, and events? Are names named wherever possible? Are there interesting, graphic details that create specific, vivid images? Does the detail describe those qualities and characteristics that distinguish the thing being described from other things of the same type? Does the detail provide insights into character while describing places and events?

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are there places with too much detail? Does the reader receive more information than they need to create a mental movie of the story? Is there redundant detail? Can some of the detail be cut without weakening the images of the story?

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is the detail in the correct places? Do readers receive detail when they need to form images of important story elements? Does detail encumber major action sequences? Can this detail be moved to other scenes, where it won’t dilute the power of intense action?

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does the story effectively use all the available forms of detail? Are the nouns specific? Are the verbs strong, precise action verbs? Are modifiers used sparingly and effectively?

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5. Multisensory detail

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Stories are more powerful and gripping when story detail describes what all five of the reader’s senses would record if they where present in the middle of the action. Student writers tend to rely almost exclusively on the sense of sight. They report what things look like. Readers also want to imagine what places smell like, sound like, feel like, and taste like.

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Have students count how many details they provide for each sense. They should then evaluate overall image and detail density (number of details per page, or per 100 words), as well as detail density for each of the five senses.

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6. Simile and metaphor

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Similes and metaphors are powerful forms of detail. A simile is an equivalence between two otherwise dissimilar things. Similes use the words like, as, or as if to make this comparison. (His arms were like tree trunks. His mouth was as big as a house. A metaphor directly ascribes or assigns the properties or attributes of one thing to another. (His arms were tree trunks. His mouth was an open door that no one could shut.) Similes are more common. Metaphors, typically, are more powerful

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Similes and metaphors work only if the subject of comparison invokes a common, concrete image for the reader. “He whined like the gyro-stabilizer on a retro-sequencer” probably means nothing to a reader. Who knows what a gyro-stabilizer on a retrosequencer is? Who knows if it really does whine?

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Students need not worry about creating similes and metaphors while they write a draft. If one comes to mind, wonderful. The time to search for opportunities to use similes and metaphors, though, is during editing. Because they create powerful images, similes and metaphors tend to dominate surrounding text. The writer must blend similes and metaphors into the story, in accord with tone and mood, so that they support, rather than disrupt, the reader’s experience of story events.

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7. Deadwood words.       Like rotten, decayed timber, some words undermine and weaken the power of a good story. They don’t contribute immediacy, meaning or imagery. During editing, the writer should search for and cut these deadwood words. They are the story equivalent of junk foodquick and easy to slop onto the page, they fill the story with empty narrative calories but add no imagery muscle or protein.

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Here are the specific types of deadwood words your students should learn to recognize and become accustomed to cutting from their writing:

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Ambiguous, abstract terms.       Convert them to precise, concrete terms. Always be specific. In the sentence “The bears lived in a cozy place,” the word place is ambiguous. Is it a cave? A valley? A meadow? Be specific.

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Needless qualifiers.       (really, very, mostly, sort of, kind of, basically, slightly, actually, in reality, in general, with regard to, in turn, etc.) Try to eliminate them. They only blur and weaken a reader’s images.

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Needless connectors.       (because, therefore, so, and, etc.) Are they really needed? Cut them if possible. Have students count the number of and’s in their story. Students who have more than the average number for the class should explore ways to simplify sentences and reduce their use of this connector.

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Redundant words.       Words that add no new story information should be eliminated. “The glowing, brilliant, scarlet-red dress” provides no more imagery than “the glowing scarlet dress,” “the brilliant scarlet dress,” “the glowing red dress,” or ”the brilliant red dress.” Why use six words when four will do?

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Redundant phrases.       “In a fit of anger, Bruce smacked his fist through the wall.” “She thought to herself …” or “She wondered to herself …” Of course Bruce is angry if he smacks his fist through a wall. Has anyone done that who wasn’t angry? There is no need to tell the reader how Bruce feels unless he isn’t mad, unless he is smacking his fist through the wall perhaps for fun, or out of sorrow. Who else could “she” think to or wonder to than “to herself”? Use only those phrases that are essential to communicating the intended meaning

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Clichés are overused expressions that have therefore lost their original punch and meaning. Find other ways to create the same image unless the cliché itself is specifically intended

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Circumlocution is talking around a subject, using an unnecessarily large number of words, or evasive language. “Your horse … well, see, I was out in the barn … and there he was I mean I only wanted to get one of those new bridles to try out … anyway, he wasn’t moving… .” This person is using circumlocution to talk around the fact that the horse died. We do it when we are uncomfortable with the blunt truth. However, in a story, readers want the emotional punch that we tend to soften and talk around in real life. Write exactly what is meant unless the circumlocution is an intentional part of the story.

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    Hyperbole is a figure of speech which greatly exaggerates the truth. Most often we see hyperbole in the form of superlative qualifiers strung onto nouns (marvelous, terribly, awfully, etc.). It rarely adds anything to a reader’s image and may therefore be cut. “I’m awfully fond of that marvelous, terribly delicious fudge” means the same as “I love the fudge.” Hyperbole is fun to use as part of a character’s speech pattern. Otherwise, save readers the awfully, terribly boring chore of reading it.

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Euphemisms are polite terms for describing an unpleasant event or idea. “He passed away,” “He passed on,” “He crossed over,” and ”He left us” are polite ways of saying “He died.” We say “market correction” instead of “losses”; we say “downsize” instead of “fire a bunch of folks.” Euphemisms intentionally avoid the emotional punch of directly stating the unpleasant truth. Yet this emotional punch is what a writer wants, unless the euphemisms are part of a character’s speech pattern.

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Jargon is a special vocabulary that holds a unique meaning to one specific group of people, usually those in a profession. The meaning is usually not understood, or is different than the meaning understood by the general population. Government, legal, accounting, and medical professions are loaded with jargon. So is almost any other profession. Avoid jargon unless it is clearly defined. Otherwise readers will not be able to follow the story

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Don’t never avoid double negatives unless they are an intentional part of a character’s speech pattern. Or should that be, don’t never use them? With double negatives, it’s difficult to understand the intended meaning. They are confusing and stop the reader, who must struggle to identify the convoluted meaning of the sentence. Usually, as in the case of the first sentence of this paragraph, readers might never be sure whether the statement is positive or negative. Be clear. Don’t never use double negatives.

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8. Stereotypes

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We have already discussed the uses and dangers of stereotypes. It is time for students to search their story for any stereotypical images or references that might have slipped into their writing. Those that are hurtful and derogatory should be removed. Even if the writer intended to use them, they will push most readers out of, and make them resent, the story.

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Is there another way to present the same story information with fresh, unique images? Are the stereotypes necessary? If they are, and if the writer is certain that they do not have negative connotations, use them. Otherwise, replace them with other detailed description.

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9. Repetition

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Repetition has gained undeserved notoriety over the last decade. In the rush for brevity, modern fiction has looked at all repeated lines and words as easy fodder for the red pencil. Some repetition deserves to be cut. However, some forms of repetition create powerful immediacy in a story. They are prominently used in many excellent and successful stories, and they deserve consideration by student writers.

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Needless repetition slows the pace of a story, wastes words, bloats the text, and irritates a reader by forcing them to read what they already know. If a reader grumbles, “Yeah, yeah. I know this. Get on with the story,” the writer has repeated information that shouldn’t have been repeated. The most common forms of needless repetition are excess detail; deadwood words; multiple examples of the same character trait, emotion, or action; multiple characters who fill the same role; and characters’ interpretations that state what the reader already knows.

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How is repetition helpful? Intentional repetition can focus the reader’s attention, reinforce their understanding, create humor, allow anticipation of upcoming events and signal major story events. What is typically repeated? Character reactions, character habits and unique lines of dialog, character names, transitions into scenes that create humor, and key story lines.

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Search for unwanted and unnecessary repetition in every story and eliminate it

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Also search for opportunities to use intentional repetition. Repetition placed into a story to create humor not only deserves to be kept, but deserves to be emphasized.

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10. “Show don’t tell

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Show” means that a writer should rely on the sensory detail they include in a story to literally show the reader what happens. “Don’t tell” means that a writer shouldn’t interpret that sensory information, but rather allowactually forcethe reader to make all interpretive inferences.

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Show don’t tell” originated as a reminder not to tell the feelings and emotions of story characters, nor to draw conclusions for the reader about characters and story events, but rather to show relevant sensory detail to the reader and allow them to draw their own conclusions

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Not “Carol was mad. Bill was sad,” but rather “Carol slammed her fist onto the table and shook a thick fistful of bills in the air. Bill sank to the floor in a corner of the office, wringing his hands, and began to sob.”

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When the reader is allowed to draw conclusions of their own, they become more deeply involved in the story. Also, showing provides sensory detail that telling does not.

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Show character reactions and emotions, character dialog, and the sensory detail of significant events and actions. What, and why, should a writer tell? Tell planned passages of narrative summary, character history, and repeated scenes or actions. Tell to vary the rhythm and pace of the story, and tell for brevity

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Notice that showing requires more words than telling. Telling is faster and more efficient. Showing provides detail and involves the reader. It is a trade off. Most of the time, showing seems to be more effective. There will be passages in a story, though, where telling is more effective. The writer must weigh these considerations and decide.

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This decision, however, should be made during editing. We have already evaluated story detail. Now writers should search for passages where they have summarized, or told, character emotions and reactions, and where they have drawn conclusions about the characters and events for the reader. Can these passages be converted to sensory detail? Will the story suffer if they are? Usually, the story is significantly strengthened by this conversion process.

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11. Beats

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Search through dialog passages for too few or too many beats (see “Working with Dialog” in Part II). Does the reader get a clear image of the place, the characters, and their actions while they talk? If not, consider adding beats. Do the beats encumber the dialog and slow the pace of the story? If so, perhaps there are too many beats

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perhaps they should be gathered into a narrative paragraph just before the collected lines of dialog.

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12. Humor

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humor is good. Everyone wants to laugh. There are precious few story moments that would be harmed by the addition of appropriate humor. The question is never, Should the writer add humor to their story? It is always, How do they do it?

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Writing humorously is difficult. I have read a dozen books written about the subject. They all eventually arrive at the same conclusion: Humor can’t be translated into a formula

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There are, however, story structures that lend themselves to humor. First and foremost are character reactions. Many stand-up comedians earn their living by exaggerating the way people react in various stressful situations. We have already discussed the power and necessity of character reactions in a story. If the writer exaggerates character reactions to stressful situations and repeats these reactions during a story, it is almost always funny. Character reactions are the surest place for inserting humor into a story.

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Generally, exaggeration (whether over- or understatement) is funny. It is the basis for tall tales, most of which are funny

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two other structural situations that lend themselves to humor: image reversal and perspective shift.

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image reversal occurs when the reader is led to expect one thing, and the writer adds new information that reverses the reader’s image.

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I went for a horseback ride yesterday, wind streaming through my hair. But my horse began to rotate, to twist so that its legs pointed straight up as it ran. Well, okay, it was really my saddle that loosened. It, and I, slowly rolled downward to the horses belly. I now bounced along upside down underneath the horse. It never slowed, charging full speed ahead. My body was thrown from my upside-down saddle. Desperately I clutched the saddle horn with one hand, one foot caught in the stirrup as I was bounced and dragged by my stampeding mount. Then, just before I blacked out, a man stepped out of the drug store and unplugged the horse.

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The last line completely changes your image of the physical setting and situation. So it makes you laugh. The image reversal is funny.

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Perspective shifts can also be funny. The Calvin and Hobbes comic strip used this ploy on a regular basis. Tell a scene from one character’s viewpoint, then suddenly shift to another character’s viewpointa character who would view the events very differently. (Parent and child viewpoints, often used in the Calvin and Hobbes series, work well for this purpose: Tell most of a scene through the eyes of a child as a desperate, exciting, deathdefying adventure. Then shift to the practical, reality-based viewpoint of a parent who just wants to know why the child ruined his good pants.) If the two viewpoints are different enough, the shift from one to the other will be funny.

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Have students keep humor logs or journals. Have them write down what makes them laugh, what they find humorous, from day to day. Periodically, have them look for patterns and trends. Generally, what makes them laugh will also make others laugh.

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13. Punctuation

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Two punctuation checks are worthwhile, aside from ensuring that basic punctuation is correct. First, mark every exclamation mark. Treat this form of punctuation like an exotic, pungent spice. A few grains add a delicious complexity to the flavor of the stew. If the cook uses more, though, it first destroys the basic flavor of the stew and then eventually overpowers the tastebuds of the eater, so they can’t taste anything.

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Does every exclamation mark indicate a spot of extreme emphasis? Can any be changed to simple periods? The fewer exclamation marks present in a story, the more power they have.

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Second, check commas

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If commas bog down the story, the reader will begin to feel like they are wading through the text. Reading will become too great an effort

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14. Foreshadowing

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Is foreshadowing used in the story? Could it be? Is it clear? Is it accurate? Do all foreshadowed events actually occur? Does every line of foreshadowing provide new, significant information for the reader?

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Search for opportunities to foreshadow upcoming climactic events. Still, the writer must trust that the reader will understand just one (or at most two) foreshadowing hints. The writer who repeatedly broadcasts what’s to come will alienate the reader. The one exception is when repetition is emphasized and used for humor.

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How many events are foreshadowed in the story? Does foreshadowing one event dilute the power of another? Typically, only one climactic event is foreshadowed in a short story (1,000 words or less). Stories foreshadowing two events rarely work.

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15. Force

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Stories have more impact and immediacy when forceful words are used, and when definite, specific actions occur. Don’t use “big sound.” It’s too vague and indefinite. Don’t even use “huge noise.” It’s still indefinite. Use “monstrous hiss.” Now the reader forms a definite auditory image of the sound. “Monstrous hiss” has force, or power, because it is so specific.

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Have students review first the nouns they have used. Are they definite, specific, and unique? Next, check adjectives. Are they as specific and forceful as possible? Finally, check verbs. Do they create precise and visually explicit images of the actions? Are any of the verbs tentative when they could be more forceful and definite? Walk is nonspecific and indefinite, even though it may be technically accurate. Rather, did the character actually amble, stroll, plod, saunter, stride, strut, wander, or traipse? These verbs are more forceful; that is, they force a more vivid and specific image into the reader’s mind. Find more forceful substitutes for weak verbs.

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16. The final act

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After all other editing has been accomplished, have students count the number of words in their story, take several deep breaths for courage, and cut 15 percent of their total words.

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What?! After all this? Cut more?       Yes. Cut more. We writers tend to love our words too much and leave too many of the precious darlings in our stories. Cutting 15 percent of the words forces the story onto a strict diet. It will emerge lean, tough, and powerfula much better read for the reader

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The ultimate theme of editing is to cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut … .       Many writers repeat this entire editing process many times for a single story

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Having finished reworking the words and sentences, they set the story aside. Several weeks later, they begin again with the storywide questions. Often, one round of editing uncovers new problems and new opportunities to improve the storyproblems and opportunities that could not have become apparent until the previous round of editing had been completed.

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A copyright is a bundle of five rights that society grants to the person who creates a story (or other creative workpoem, photograph, film, song, etc.). These exclusive rights are: 1) the right to reproduce, or make copies, of the story; 2) the right to create derivative works, or to change the story; 3) the right to perform the story (for a live audience, in a recording studio, etc.); 4) the right to distribute, or sell, the story; and 5) the right to promote the story. No one can legally take any of these actions without the copyright holder’s permission.

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How does a student obtain a copyright? As soon as a story is created and fixed in permanent form (written down, recorded on audiocassette, etc.), it is automatically and instantly protected by a copyright. The act of creation creates the copyright. Every story your students write is instantly protected by a copyright. Writers may register their copyright by completing a form and sending it and a fee to the Copyright Office in Washington, D.C. This makes it easier to prove that the story is copyrighted (should this ever become necessary). Regardless, the copyright exists as soon as the story exists.

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How can a student lose a copyright? This is the key question. Students unwittingly relinquish their copyrights every day. Currently, a copyright exists for the life of the copyright holder plus 50 years. A copyright can be relinquished, though, at any time. How? If the copyright holder 1) sells their copyright contractually, or 2) knowingly releases a copy of any copyrighted material into the world without affixing a copyright notification. In the latter case, the copyright holder has relinquished their copyright to the public, after which time anyone can copy, change, perform, distribute, and promote the story without the writer’s permission.

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How does a student give notice of their copyright? They write either of the following two phrases on the front page of their story: “Copyright [Year] [Their Name]” or ”© [Year] [Their Name].” They aren’t bragging. They aren’t being pretentious. They are simply being a smart story writer.

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In a story, three critical elements must be identified for the reader or listener: the main character, the problem or struggle that this character faces, and the resolution to the problem. The first two define the story and the essential events of the plot. Stories are defined by the problems and struggles of characters. The third provides release from story tension and suspense and completes the story.

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To better illustrate this point, tell students something to this effect: “The truth is, Brian’s mother wasn’t mad at him. She was worded about Brian and what might have happened to him. But if I had told you that, and then asked you what you wanted to know, almost all of you would have wanted to know what happened to Brian on the way to school. Why? You’d be looking for a problem. But when I made the mother angry, you didn’t worry so much about what happened in the morning. You found a dandy problem right there on the front porch in the afternoon. The more angry I make her, the less you care about what happened in the morning.” It’s true. Readers and listeners search for a problem to use as the central focus of the story they are receiving. I have tested it with hundreds of student audiences.

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the character reacts. These reactions are among a reader’s or an audience’s favorite parts of a story. These reactions are what they will remember best and longest about the story.

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One storyteller included more details, so their story seemed more real. One storyteller included impossible or unlikely details, so their story seemed less real. Details create reality.

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One storyteller overacted; one hesitated and seemed to be making up their story; one had more expression; one seemed more confident. The general impression created by the way the story was told seemed more real or less real, so the story itself seemed more real or less real.

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Goal: Realize that the enjoyable plot elements (action, fear, excitement, humor, etc.) do not exist in isolation, but only become enjoyable through their relationship to characters and character reactions.

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The character’s first impression provides a rough sensory image of the character and usually hints at that character’s personality. The character goal creates story structure and direction. It defines the ending. It creates purpose and significance for all events and interactions in the story. Either they help the character achieve a goal, or they hinder this process.

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Obstacles create conflict. Conflict leads to struggle. Struggle, the actions a character makes to overcome obstacles, defines plot. Creating character, goal, and obstacles creates the basic plot. All elements of core character information except the crucible are accounted for in three simple bits of made up information.

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Finally, character reactions provide interpretation of story events. They create energy and humor. They draw readers and listeners into the story. They also provide insight into personality and sensory image, two additional layers of character information.

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Once your students become accustomed to beginning stories with core character information, they’ll realize that this approach is easier and far more effective than more traditional (plot-based) approaches. It’s a simple, four-step habitcharacter, goal, obstacles, and reaction. The more often they practice it, the more automatic it becomes.

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Good characters are a composite of many types of information including direct sensory data (what they look like, what their voice sounds like, how they move, how they talk, etc.), their habits and quirks, their likes and dislikes, their attitudes and personality, their thoughts, their fears and hopes, their goals and problems, and their history.

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anatomical correctness in characterizations should not be the focus. Students don’t need to be a duck, a tree, or a bear. Rather, they should represent the personality, attitude, and manner (the essence) of this duck, tree, or bear.

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Basic images come from nouns. Without nouns, the paragraph is nonsensical, meaningless. Readers don’t know what to picture.       Action and movement come from verbs. Without verbs, readers don’t know how to interpret the scene. They are left with disconnected images and need more information to connect and complete them.       Details come from modifiers. Without modifiers, the paragraph is lifeless and boring.

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The paragraph without nouns:       A scraggly old shuffled down the twisty black-top. Looked for a comfortable to sit. Found on the of a fallen, and sat, gazing at the pastoral around. In the heard a deep, resonant church. Slowly stood, rubbed his aching, and continued his to.       The common reaction to this version is that it is comical and nonsensical. Nouns create the basic images in a reader’s mind.       The paragraph without verbs:       A scraggly old man down the twisty, black-top road. He for a comfortable place. He one on the stump of a fallen tree, and, at the pastoral scene around him. In the distance he a deep, resonant church bell. He slowly, his aching back, and his walk to town.       The common reaction to this version is that it is a disconnected string of definite images. Verbs create motion and action, and connect and complete a reader’s images

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The paragraph without modifiers:       A man shuffled down the road. He looked for a place to sit. He found one on the stump of a tree, and sat, gazing at the scene around him. In the distance he heard a bell. He stood, rubbed his back, and continued his walk to town.       The common reaction to this version is that it is clear but flat and colorless. Modifiers paint the rich pallette of story colors in a reader’s mind

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The complete paragraph:       A scraggly old man shuffled down the twisty, black-top road. He looked for a comfortable place to sit. He found one on the stump of a fallen tree, and sat, gazing at the pastoral scene around him. In the distance he heard a deep, resonant church bell. He slowly stood, rubbed his aching back, and continued his walk to town

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Narrative. This general term refers to many prose forms. Narrative is that part of a prose work that provides an orderly description of events. Any event; any description. Any written description of events (excluding dialog) is narrative. Essays, theses, articles, reports, journals, and textbooks are all forms of narrative. A story is a more restrictive subset of narrative because “story” specifies characteristics of both the information presented and the form of presentation that “narrative” alone does not imply

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Story. A story is the narrative combination of four key elements: character, conflict, struggle, and goal. More completely, it is characters who struggle, at some real risk to themselves, past conflicts and obstacles to obtain something they want. Stories are about characters, not plots. What we care about is the conflict and struggle. The greater, the more dangerous these two elements are, the more readers care about character and story

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Incident. Most dictionaries define story as being “a narrative account of a real or imagined event or events.” For the purposes of Write Right, this defines incident. In writing terms, an incident is the reporting of something that happened. Incidents are plot-based. Stories are character-based. Incidents may have strong emotion and trauma, but they lack character-based conflict and struggle, which are the hallmarks of a story. By shifting the focus of an incident from plot to character, it is possible to convert incidents into stories

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Character. Characters are the heart and soul of every story. Characters are the story. But what is a character? A story character is really the sum of five layers of information: core information (character first impression, goal, conflictproblems, flaws, risk, and dangercrucible, and struggle), sensory image (any information an observer’s sensessight, hearing, sound, smell, touch, and tastecould directly record), personality (how they relate to and interact with the world; the way they are; what they’re like), the character’s history (what has happened to them in the past), and their current activity (the things they do).

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Themes. In one short phrase, what is the story about? Most will try to answer with a one-sentence plot summary. However, no story is about plot. Stories are about characters; more specifically, they are about character-related “themes.” The movie Braveheart is about the power and lure of freedom for the oppressed Scots. “The Merchant of Venice” is about ethnic prejudice and the resulting urge for revenge. These are themes. ”Romeo and Juliet” is about the depth of love. “Peter Rabbit” is about the consequences of disobedience.

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Story question. A story question creates suspense in a story. A story question is planted in a reader’s mind early in a story. The need to answer this question propels the reader through the story. Usually, the story question is the main character’s goal expressed in the form of a question. Will they or will they not achieve their goal?

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Crucible. The main character has a goal and faces obstacles (external problems and internal flaws) of monumental proportion. For each, the writer has created immeasurable risk and danger. At this point, the reader is likely to ask, “So, why doesn’t the character just walk away and say, ‘I didn’t want that goal anyway.’? I would.”       Something must force the main character to face the grand jeopardy so cleverly created for them. Something must make it impossible for them to turn away from this confrontation: the crucible. The greater the jeopardy, the stronger a crucible the story needs to keep the main character from simply leaving the story

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Sequel. A sequel is the opportunity after a scene for the main character to reflect, to regroup, to reform their thoughts and plans, to reevaluate the events and other characters of the story. Without sequels, the story seems to rush along at breakneck speed, with no purpose or point.

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Passion. Humans are all very passionate beings. Any character becomes more attractive and interesting when readers see their passions, and when readers see characters act on those passions

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Creativity is the combination of two attributes: the willingness to look like a fool, and the persistence to do it over and over again.

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First paragraph. The opening paragraph(s) of any story are the most critical. If they don’t grab the reader, none of the other paragraphs will ever be seen. These paragraphs also serve a greater variety of story functions of any paragraph(s) in a story. Because of its vast importance, it is far easier to construct an effective first paragraph after the entire story has been written.

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Active voice commands a reader’s attention more.