To Help Show Instead of Tell, Nix Your Internal Monologues

One of the oldest pieces of writing advice out there is, "Show, don't tell." If you're a writer you've probably seen this in every style guide, heard it from most of your creative writing teachers, and seen it mentioned in blogs just like this one. The problem is that this writing proverb (because that's really what it is) doesn't offer a lot of concrete ways to actually do what it's suggesting.

As such I thought I'd make a suggestion for this week... cut out your internal monologues. Or, if you can't cut them out entirely, keep them short, simple, and to-the-point.

I remember it was 1917 the first time I heard that name...

Don't Make Your Book Feel Like a Recipe Blog

Since quarantine began I, like everyone else, have been doing far more cooking than I ever actually did before. And since I have a sweet tooth I wanted to find something tasty I could make without causing my waistline to swell, since I'm doing home workouts instead of going to the gym these days. When I put up a recipe in Creamy Yogurt Jello: An Ideal Dessert For Those Looking To Lose Weight, all the commenters who saw it said the same thing.

"This looks really good. Thank you for not putting up some story about your family tradition when all we wanted was the recipe!"

 

My grandmother first taught me this when I was 17 and dating my first girlfriend...

I had seen the memes and jokes about how any time you try to find a simple recipe for homemade cornbread or peach cobbler that you always had to wade through paragraphs of fluff about how the author first learned to make this recipe as a child, or about some traumatic life event that gave birth to a new family tradition. I thought it was exaggerated... for those not used to searching through cooking blogs looking for recipes, there is no exaggeration. Several sites I visited literally had a "Skip To The Recipe" button on top that automatically bypassed 3/4 of the page to get to the part that mattered.

Internal monologues can end up like that; a big, bloated, ponderous read that might be interesting under the right circumstances, but which kills the pace and frustrates the reader.

 

Show Us The Reaction

The key thing about "Show, Don't Tell" is that it's about insinuation. It's when you paint the audience a picture, and lead them to draw conclusions. You do this through atmosphere, tone, and by narrating events that happen, but not by opening up someone's head and just giving the audience a Shakespearian aside.

Give you an example. Take the following exchange:

"Hey Jake," Marjorie said.

Oh God, I thought. She's talking to me... she's really talking to me! Be cool, don't worry, it's fine. Say something smooth. Don't stare! You're staring, shit, open your mouth and get it in gear!

 

"You mind if I get past you, here?" she asked.

"Huh?" I managed. "Oh, yeah, no problem."

That was smooth, guy. Real smooth.

Does this work? Sure, it conveys the sense of nervous panic of our protagonist screwing up a social interaction. It's clumsy, though, and it doesn't offer any nuance or set dressing... it's just telling the audience exactly what the lead is thinking in his own words.

For contrast, try the following.

"Hey Jake," Marjorie said.

My heart hammered, thumping in my ears. I swallowed, hoping it might quiet the noise in my head a bit. I turned, smiling, but when I tried to say something my mouth had gone completely dry. I coughed, trying to clear my throat.

"Sorry," I finally managed. "What do you need?"

"Could I get past you?" she said, pointing with one lacquered nail at the space just down the narrow hall.

"Huh?" I followed where she was pointing. I felt the flush creeping up my neck, and tried not to think about it. That just made it worse. "Oh, yeah, no problem."

This description is a little melodramatic, but it gets the point across. Our protagonist, whoever he is, comes completely undone when Marjorie is near him. But rather than just giving the audience the soundtrack of Jake's panicked mind, we get to see the reaction he has to her presence. We can make the connection easily enough without being told by Jake's own running monologue what he's thinking.

If You Need To Tell, Put It In Dialogue

Not every internal monologue is related to a social situation like this, though. Sometimes these monologues are used as a way to information dump important plot elements. Maybe it's the ghost story behind a particular abandoned house, a traumatic experience a character had as a child, or a complicated relationship they have with another character.

If you absolutely need to say something directly to the audience, try putting it in dialogue between two or more characters. It tends to make things flow a lot more organically, and you usually cut out a lot of needless detail when you force yourself to frame information in the context of speech.

Just have them talk... trust me, it works a lot better.

Take some of the following examples:

- "You're seriously not scared of this place, are you?" Jack asked. He held up his hands, wiggling his fingers and widening his eyes. "Who's that crossing my threshold? Whose blood do I smell?"

- I held up the report, frowning as I read over the pertinent details. "Rachel, they're not serious about this, are they? The suspect had 12 witnesses and a video call showing they were out of town. It's open and shut!"

- "Look, I know you and your dad have had your problems in the past," Jennie said. "But he's really tried to change. Just take the weekend, and give him a chance?"

Each of these gives the reader a clue to the nature of what's going on in the story, without bogging them down with unnecessary details. Because sure, the full ghost story about Bloody Charlie might be important to the narrative overall, but it will be way better if it's told in dialogue around a campfire, or during a power outage in a different scene. The full police report being referenced might have a lot of names, times, and information, but if it's not pertinent right then and there you don't need to have the detective mentally read it for the audience. The character with the rough relationship with their dad might have been abused or neglected, or just had a falling out over differences of opinion... unless it's absolutely necessary to give full details for context in that moment (and it almost never is), just tell the reader the important bit (Jake is scared of a ghost story, the case against a character is very flimsy, there's a bad history at work), and move on.

Think of It Like a Play

If you've never written for stage and screen, it's an activity that can put a fine edge on your craft. Because you have to use set details, lighting, direction, action, and dialogue to put things on display for the audience. Sometimes characters will monologue, but often you need the audience to realize deeper implications by having them witness expressions, tone, emotion, and behavior.

That sort of thing is a crash course in showing, instead of telling.

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That's all for this week's Craft of Writing! For more of my work, check out my Vocal archive, or at My Amazon Author Page where you can find books like my sword and sorcery novel Crier's Knife, or my short story collection The Rejects!

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Just Change One Thing (A Simple Formula For Modern Fantasy)

If you're trying to write a modern fantasy story, you might feel a bit overwhelmed. After all, what do you let in, and what do you keep out? Does your world have vampires? And if you do, are there werewolves as well? What about angels and demons? And if you allow them in, do you keep things old testament, or do you let in all the pagan gods along with their hosts of spirits? Does your world have magic, and if so, what kind? Or do you have several different kinds, each with their own history, philosophy, and requirements?

Take a deep breath... You don't have to make this so complicated.

Stop. If you find yourself in this situation, just stop.

Now, put your gears in reverse, and go back to the beginning. Make one change, and see where that gets you.

Avoiding Kitchen Sink Settings

Let's be real, some authors are perfectly comfortable with a kitchen sink setting. They've got everything in their world, and they can explain it effortlessly to the audience in a way that is easy to digest, and which makes everything seem wondrous and vibrant. However, something a lot of us seem to forget is that not all of us can pull that off. So, if you find yourself getting overwhelmed trying to make your modern fantasy setting vibrant and unique, do yourself a favor and keep the floodgates closed.

Instead, change one thing. Flick one element, and see what sort of ricochets it makes throughout the world.

One change is usually enough for most settings.

Take the standard zombie apocalypse scenario. Whether it's what we see in Night of The Living Dead, or the near-future setting of The Newsflesh Trilogy, there was one change made to the world we know and love; the dead get up, and hunger for the living. Everything else in this setting revolves around that singular difference, and the world's response to it.

If you want to make a setting where you can focus on your story, while also making everything feel unique and surreal without feeling crammed, follow that same logic. Change one thing, and then follow the ripples to see where they go.

As a for-instance, let's say there are people who have learned the secrets of ancient magics, and can wield them from the shadows. Their doings are kept private, and secret, known only to a few, and believed by even fewer. So you have a world where strange, inexplicable instances suddenly take on sinister meanings, and where agents of those learned in the secret ways go forth to do their master's bidding. What you have here is Harry Potter, if it had a baby with Jason Bourne. The intrigue and escape of a secret world where magic is real, but where only a privileged few know about it. Thus you can reveal, or not reveal, as much as you want through those who are in-the-know. Same way spy novels work, giving you access to the world beneath the world where only spies and operatives tend to lurk.

You don't have to throw ancient gods, fairy tale monsters, demons, or vampires into that mix... magic and skullduggery creates a unique enough setting on its own that you don't have to hang twelve lampshades on it to stand out. More importantly, though, there's less stuff for you to keep track of, and for your audience to have to learn. Because you're essentially giving your readers a crash course in your world, its language, and the rules it runs on. The fewer things they have to keep track of, the less chance there is they'll get confused, overwhelmed, or find cracks in the foundation.

It's Not For Everyone

To reiterate, this is just one way of doing things. It isn't inherently better, or worse, than any others. But if you keep finding the disparate elements of your world rising up to overwhelm you, then maybe you should remove some of those elements entirely. After all, if you've got your audience hooked with, "Club DJ necromancer has to survive death threats from fireball gang to uncover what really happened that night in a Brooks Street alley," then adding in vampires or werewolves won't, necessarily, make that better.

It will, though, make it more complicated. That might not be what your story, or your audience, needs.

That's all for this week's Craft of Writing post. It's a day late, for which I apologize, but I'm getting prepped for Windy Con. So, if you find yourself attending, feel free to track me down to say hello! Also, if you want to stay up-to-date on my latest releases, follow me on Facebook, Tumblr, and Twitter. Lastly, if you want to help support me and my work, head over to The Literary Mercenary's Patreon page to toss a little love in my cup. For as little as $1 a month, I'll even send you some free books as a thank you.

5 Tips For Making Character Relationships More Believable

You've created the best possible character for your book. They're deep, rich, full of history and unusual skills, and they immediately intrigue anyone who hears their pitch. The problem you're running into, though, is that whenever this character tries to interact with people who are supposedly important to them things feel forced, stilted, or just silly. In short, even when they're having coffee with a childhood friend, or expressing how much they love their partner, it comes across like a scripted cliche more than a genuine moment.

Tell me, husband, what did you do while I was off fighting space aliens?

You know these issues when you see them. Whether it's in comics, TV, movies, or books, you can tell when the writers just didn't put as much thought into characters' relationships with other people as they did into the characters themselves. They expected the declaration of love, importance, etc. to just be accepted on its face.

If you're looking for shortcuts to make these relationships feel real, though, here are some simple ones to keep in mind.

#1: They Know How Another Characters Likes Their Coffee

You can really use any sort of food preference here, but by showing that one character knows, and considers, another character's preferences, you're showing that they have a pre-existing relationship. One version of this shorthand is when a character's friend has had a hard night, so the character brews up some coffee, and then adds milk, sugar, and a dollop of honey just the way their friend likes it. Or they know what brand of beer their friend likes (doubly important if they're a beer snob), or they remember what food allergies someone has. It shows they've known each other for a while, and that the character cares enough to pay attention, and remember, things that matter to their friend.

#2: They Have A Ritual Just Between Them

If you've known someone for a long time, chances are good you have your own language. You might have pet names for each other, a particular kind of hand jive, or you clasp forearms like the barbarian heroes of old. For a good example, just look at Predator. You know that scene where Dutch and Dillon slap hands, and then arm wrestle to prove how manly they are? While immediately showing us that Arnold Schwarzenegger looks better in his 40s than we will ever look, it also shows us the characters have a history, that they're old friends, and that time has changed them since they last saw each other. All of it contained in that single ritual we never see them go through with any other characters, implying as we go that they were particularly close friends.

#3: They Know Each Other's Tics

We've all had those moments where we thought we were being sly, or keeping a poker face, but as soon as we were out of ear shot of passersby our friend looked at us and says, "All right, what's the matter?" When we protest that nothing's wrong, they fold their arms, and remind us of a tell we have that no one else would pick up on. They way our tone of voice changes slightly, or how we get quiet unless someone is asking us questions, or even how we rub that lucky coin with our thumb when we think no one will notice. If you want to show that characters know each other, make it hard for them to hide their true feelings. You also have to explain how the one character knew. You don't want us to think they're psychic, after all... unless they are.

#4: Show Us They Matter

It's easy to put words in your characters' mouths so they tell us their children mean everything to them, or that they love their spouse more than life itself. That's melodramatic, but it's the kind of melodrama we tend to accept. If you want to be more subtle, show us the ways characters have meaning in others' lives (even if the characters are dead). When your protagonist gets advice from her father, does she follow it, or discount it entirely? When there's a shooting reported, do they text their daughter to make sure they're okay? If they lose someone, what things set off that grief? Is it the sight of their spouse's craft box, half rolled out from under a desk? Is it a particular song they always sang? Is it a certain smell? Show us those things, and give us a flash of insight as to why those things are instantly associated with this other character.

#5: Make Sacrifices

When we think of sacrificing for the ones we love in stories, we tend to think of the big, sweeping gestures. Something bad happens, so you drop everything to track down the terrorists who kidnapped your kid, a la Taken. However, the truth of how much you care about someone is often written in small sacrifices, rather than big ones. Does your protagonist cancel dates, or call off work, to go take care of friends or family? Are they willing to show up as moral support when that character is having a tough time? Do they get angry when woken up by a phone call at two in the morning, or are they concerned because their son would only call like that if it was an emergency?

Make Us Believe

If you want us to buy that your character is an ex-special forces soldier, you'd adjust the way they talk, and the skills they possess, to reflect that career. If you want us to believe they're a competent detective, you'd show us how they go about investigating crimes. So, if you want to drive home that these relationships with other characters are genuine, you need to start small. Because it's not always about taking a bullet to save your loved one from getting shot... sometimes it's about reading your kid a bed time story to establish that, yes, you do love them, and they love you back.

That's all for this week's Craft of Writing. Hopefully there are some folks out there who found it helpful. If you enjoyed it, why not follow me on Facebook, Tumblr, and Twitter? And, if you've got a few extra Washingtons you could spare, consider heading over to The Literary Mercenary's Patreon page. All it takes is $1 a month to make a difference, and to get yourself some free books as a thank you.

Tips For Tightening Up Your Writing

Writers more than almost anyone else are prone to go mad around the new year. We promise to write this, edit that, finish this project, and finally get around to publishing that one secret story we've never put to paper before. By and large the madness passes by the time Valentine's Day rolls around, and we get back to business.

Some resolutions are well-meaning though. A few of them are even necessary. If you made a resolution to sharpen your stories by tightening up your prose, let me hand you a whetstone.

The metaphors are mixed, but you get the thrust of it I'm sure.

Tip #1: Take Out Unnecessary Words

The kingdom of the novel is full of swooping paths that lead through mountains and caves, round huge lakes and across the seas. You can write however much you want, but many writers use this freedom as an excuse to create loose prose hung with extraneous words like a gypsy fortune-teller's baubles. While the loose, flowy prose is interesting, even engaging, it's all too easy to trip on the excess.

One of the best ways to eliminate roundabout writing full of phrases like I reached out my hand to take it is to write short fiction. I highly recommend everyone write at least some short fiction before taking on a novel because it teaches you to trim the fat and get to the point. If you only have 3k or 5k words to tell your story in you learn really damn quickly to cut out adverbs you don't need, and to remove instances of words like that, just, up, down, and others.

Words. Do. Not. Bleed.

Every writer has words that keep showing up in text which could easily be removed. For instance say you wrote, Terese sat down on the chair, sighed quietly to herself, and put down her book on the side table. A tighter, smoother sentence would read, Terese sat, sighed, and laid her book on the side table.

One sentence doesn't make a lot of difference to your overall word count, but if you go through your entire manuscript and trim the fat you'll see thousands of words vanish. You'll also notice your writing style is punchier, and easier to read.

Tip #2: Ask What This Scene Is Showing Us

Imagine for a moment that you were making a movie. You need to ask what every camera angle, every action scene, and every word of dialogue is telling your audience. For instance if there was a 5-minute scene in the middle of Casablanca where Rick played solitaire after he got drunk in the bar what would we get out of that? Does it act as a setting for a monologue? It is a statement on how he's desperate to do absolutely anything but face his lover's return? Or is it a waste of 5 minutes that would be better spent focusing on an actual aspect of the drama that's going on in the story?

This is why we scrapped the scenes with Legolas's kid sister.

This is one thing that books and movies share; if a scene has no purpose you need to cut it.

It can be hard sometimes to figure out if a scene has purpose, or if you're faffing about. For instance, does that scene with your lead catching coffee with her mom show us important things about how she was raised and the sort of relationship she has with a female role model, or was it just stuffed in there as a way to eat up word count? Is the action scene where your detective takes down a team of three bank robbers a gratuitous shootout, or does it illustrate the sort of man he is when lives are on the line and he has to do his job?

These aren't always easy calls to make, but your job is to tell the story. Does the story benefit from following your teenage monster hunter through every high school class every day of the week, or should we just skip to the part where she's tracking a werewolf on Wednesday afternoon while ditching Spanish III?

Tip #3: Listen To Your Beta Readers, and Kill Your Darlings

They'll never feel a thing.

Every author has beta readers (here are the 5 types every author should have). These are the men and women you trust to tell you if you got your facts right, if your characters are going off the rails, and if you've got holes in your plot. For some reason though when beta readers tell authors they should really get rid of a certain scene they flip their collective shit. They couldn't possibly get rid of the spunky kid sister, or cut out the long reminiscence about the lead's first ever sexual encounter. It's special... and important... and...

And I've got news for you; your word babies are no exception to the rules of good writing. Stories are stories, and if you put in a scene, plot twist, character, etc. that isn't passing muster it's your job to drum it out.

That doesn't mean you should immediately cut out a scene that you feel strongly about. You need to talk with your betas (or editors, or both) about why they feel this thing should be removed. Does the scene repeat an important point that's already been mentioned and thus comes across as unnecessary repetition? Is it just fan service in the event it's a pointless shoot out, sex scene, etc.? Is it offensive, a common complaint with profanity, violence, rape scenes, and other elements? You might decide to keep a scene even if it's been suggested you should delete it, but make sure you're doing it to remain true to the story and not because you have an attachment to that particular piece of prose.

Tip #4: Avoid Metaphor Vomit

This one is a warning based on my personal experience. Writing a great metaphor is a satisfying experience, but metaphors are the spice of your prose. If you use them too much then pretty soon you have one big symbolic mess that is difficult to make any sense out of.

A few solid metaphors are good. Make sure they're spread out so you have plenty of normal, easy-to-read text between them.

Hopefully you found this week's Literary Mercenary helpful. Good hunting to my fellow authors in 2015, and if you'd like to help support me drop by my Patreon page and become a patron today! If you want to make sure you catch all of my updates then follow me on Facebook and Tumblr as well!

Some Tips on Writing Dystopian Societies

For reasons I cannot explain it appears that dystopian futures are big right now... really big. The young adult genre (which isn't really a genre, but more on that another day) seems to have a particular hard-on for them of late, with The Hunger Games and Divergent as two stand outs in the sales categories. If you're thinking about writing your own bleak, Nihilistic romp through a crumbling, amoral wasteland though it's important for you to stop and take a deep breath.

Just because everyone else is jumping off a bridge doesn't mean you should too. In the event that it's a really kick-ass bridge though, make sure you know the best way to stick the landing.

Tip #1: Understand What Happened

The term dystopia was coined in 1868, and it is a term based on Greek that means "imaginary bad place." As a genre dystopian works are characterized by societies filled with hardship, deprivation, oppression, a low quality of life, and constant terror. If you're writing about events in a society like this, then it's your job to explain to us just how the hell it got that way.

And then the penguin masters took their rightful places...

Societies are organic things made up of the people who populate them. Every society from post-apocalyptic tribes of violent mutants to crumbling cities filled with the repressed populace of downtrodden workers has reached its current existence through logical forces. Every civilization that's formed on this planet (and probably on other planets too) so far happened because of human forces, and the evolution of society into a dystopia needs to come with equally sensical events.

For example, did society collapse under the weight of a corrupt, wealthy upper class? If so, did this lead to the formation of a communal society where ambition, individuality, and even attachment to material possessions are seen as crimes? Alternatively did the wealthy and privileged form an oligarchy, buying their way into politics, media, and law enforcement so they can continue to maintain their positions of power while abusing the lower classes, the planet, and the resources available to the society? Or did something cataclysmic occur, leading the frightened masses to turn over power and liberty to the clergy, who now rule with an iron fist over all aspects of a sectarian society?

These are all valid examples, and they all have an inciting event, a reaction, and a change. Your society is a character, and the first step to developing it is to know what led to it becoming the way it is now.

Tip #2: Look at Real Life Examples

Contrary to popular belief dystopian societies exist in places other than between book covers, and on the silver screen. As a writer you should look at what happened in the real world to see if what you're portraying on the page can measure up.

Nero's decree against pants was really the beginning of the end.

Let's take one of the biggest dystopias I can think of; Rome. Rome began life as a city state like any other, and due to its advances in science, military training, culture and law it devoured huge chunks of the known world. Rome grew, and at some point its ideals began to fade. It grew corrupt and darker, with the great games to distract the upset populace as the government served the ends of the wealthy rather than its citizens. It eventually toppled due to outside forces who sacked Rome and took all she had to offer.

History is filled with other examples of dystopian societies. Sparta is a good example; an entire nation where the upper class trained from childhood to become the ultimate warriors in the world, and where all the work was done by a slave underclass who had no rights and who could often be killed out of hand. The cult in Jonestown who eventually committed suicide set up a miniature society to follow the religious whims of its leader, up to and including drinking poisoned kool aid. The rise of the United Soviet Socialist Republic, which was characterized by oppression, brutality, and violent destruction of anything that challenged the status quo. Arguments could even be made for how Iran and Afghanistan transformed from relatively progressive democracies into religious theocracies in a few decades thanks to the meddling of the world's superpowers putting brutal dictators in power because they were allies.

If you study how societies go from pretty good to totally screwed in the real world then your dystopia is going to feel like somewhere out of a news broadcast rather than a fantasy.

Tip #3: What's Keeping it From Toppling?

Being in a dystopia sucks. Everything is gritty and grainy, the work is back-breaking, there's no healthcare, and as soon as you find anything you can take pleasure in there's a good chance it will be crushed under the boot heel of the government. The many are being regularly trodden underfoot because of a few people who have managed to rig the system that way.

So what is keeping the whole thing from tumbling down like a pack of cards?

This. Mostly this.

In order for a dystopia to exist, and for it to have existed for longer than a few years, you need to know what makes it tick. There's got to be some glue holding the whole fucked-up place together, otherwise it would have crumbled a long time ago and the people who were left would have built something new. Most of the time the collapse of the dystopian society is what the work is about, but not always. Sometimes there's just so much Nihilism that despite the struggles of the cast the whole, horrible clock just keeps on ticking away.

This is one of the hardest things to do, so I'll give you some examples of people who've done it before. In the film Equilibrium all the people left after the third world war agree to form themselves into a new society, and to dose themselves with an emotion-repressing drug called Prozium. Emotions have been outlawed, and those on the dose don't realize how terrible this is. In this case the only thing holding the society together is the law enforcement arm called the Grammaton Cleric and Prozium; once the drug disappears the whole population begins to wake up and the basic building block of the society crumbles.

In The Running Man the world has become a dystopian oligarchy where there are no safety regulations, no unions, no environmental regulation, and the wealthy and privileged can do whatever they want. The lower classes are held in check by a combination of jack-booted thugs, and the free entertainment beamed into every home via television. The Free Vee not only distracts the working class from how badly they're being abused, but it provides them with a dream; a dream that they too could get on TV and better themselves by winning one of the games where victory means millions. If that dream is ended, as Ben Richards predicts it will be, the poor will rise up and tear the wealthy down off their thrones and take over the society that they really helped build in the first place.

Lastly, let's take a look at Fahrenheit 451. In this world firemen are actually called to locations where people are hoarding books, and it's their job to burn them down. The society is based on ignorance, and on a populace who does their jobs without question. Everyone is too distracted by the perks of technology to question what the government is doing, or to ask why books are being burned. When our hero starts reading he has to escape, and when that society is bombed into dust by its enemies he and others like him have the accumulated knowledge of memorized texts that they'll be able to use to build a new, better society.

Tip #4 Follow the Ripples

This rule typically applies to writing alternative history, but dystopian futures can benefit from it just as well. Every choice made has an effect in a society, and the bigger the society the bigger those ripples become. Say your dystopian society claimed that all unmarried women have no rights (because The Handmaid's Tale is still pretty goddamn scary). Would that lead to people taking elaborate precautions to have more sons? Would a new industry arise to buy unwanted daughters from their parents? Would rich families who loved their daughters create trusts, managed by men, so that they would be cared for after the parents passed?

Who knows what would happen? You need to in order for your world to make sense. If there's a logic hole, or something exists even despite the fact that it shouldn't (a female lead in a world like this where she aggressively back talks men in public with no repercussions, for example, would be completely against the culture you've created) your reader is going to notice. For every decision you need to ask why? When you've run out of why's, then you have a solid stage to play out your drama on. Whatever it happens to be.


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The Mary Sue: What It Is, And How To Avoid It

A quick announcement before we begin; the new anthology Shadows of a Fading World from Long Count Press went live today. This collection contains tales of dying worlds, and among them is my story "Paths of Iron and Blood". If you're interested, check it out here on Amazon.

Now then, where was I? Oh yes...

The Mary Sue

Mary Sues; even if you don't know the name, you know these characters. They're the youngest, the smartest, the prettiest, and they just have the cutest eyes and the most tragic back stories. Everyone loves them, and those who don't hate them only out of jealousy and spite.

These characters are, no exaggeration intended, the things editors see in their nightmares.

And this. Editors have nightmares about this.

Some authors strain with every fiber of their being to avoid creating these types of characters. Some of us are in denial about the problems with our own, imaginary children and won't see them until beta readers set our manuscripts on fire on our front lawns in protest. To avoid this, there are some easy ways to make sure all your characters, not just your leads, avoid becoming one of these shallow gateways to wish fulfillment.

Step One: Take the Test

There are dozens of tests out on the Internet which can give you feedback on how much of a Mary Sue your character is or isn't. One of the most reliable tests I've come across is the Universal Mary Sue Litmus Test, which can be found here. Running your character through this test should always be your first step, even if you're positive he or she is clean.

Step Two: Scrub Off Some of The Special

Your characters are not beautiful, unique snowflakes; they're people. Every person, and every character, has a list of abilities, skills, and a history that's led them to become who they are in this moment. Even the waiter whose name we never learn on page 75. However, if your character is a little too remarkable for the world you've created, a lot of readers are going to get turned off right quick.

Guess which section is responsible for this?

Here's a little history lesson for you. The Mary Sue, according to the eminently reliable source of a Wikipedia article, is the direct result of Star Trek fan fiction. The actual character by the name of Mary Sue was created and published in the fanzine Menagerie #2 in a 1973 story titled "A Trekkie's Tale". This story set out to deliberately show how ridiculous a fifteen-and-a-half-year-old lieutenant, the youngest and brightest ever to graduate from the academy and to be given a field commission, was. This story was in response to a huge number of tales with similar self-insert characters who, despite their youth, were precocious enough to save the day in addition to getting in bed with canonical, adult-aged characters.

Firstly, I'm sure there's a regulation somewhere against that kind of thing in any navy. Second, no.

So, if your character scored too high on the Mary Sue Litmus Test (again, you can and should take it here), then you need to look at what makes him or her too special. Is the character too young to be established in a certain field? Does the character have impossible-colored hair, eyes, or other features which mark him or her out as obviously special and different? Has the character mastered some skill or discipline uncommon to the world, such as being a disciple of an ancient martial art known to a chosen few or being one of the most naturally talented spellcasters in existence?

Whatever it is, ask yourself if it's necessary to the character. For instance, does your lead have to be an ex-special forces soldier, or would simply being someone who served in the military do? Must this character have pink, blue, or fuchsia hair, or is it a minor, cosmetic thing that can be done away with without altering the story?

Step Three: Make Your Character Work For It

When you watch a lead guitarist shred on stage, an expert marksman put two rounds right next to each other at a half a mile in a high wind, or hear about someone who climbs buildings like a human fly, you see something amazing. What you don't see is the countless hours of practice, training, study, blood, sweat, and shouted swear words that went into that final product. You need to make the reader aware of how your character became what he or she is.

All right wuss, if you make good time I'll take the razor blades out of the grips.

That said, do not, I repeat, do not just list a character's bona fides up front; instead, show them gradually to the reader. I did a post about this here too, but examples always work best. So, say you have a character who is the most talented sorceress the realm has ever seen. Magic comes naturally to her, and she's able to weave spells that should be years beyond her with nary a thought.

That's boring. Even if a character is born with talent, that talent has to be beaten, hammered, and refined into real world skill. Anything worth having takes work.

Take the same character and the same power set, but this time show how hard she worked to be where she is. Have her use jargon unique to magic, and show how intimately she understands the process of manipulating the power. If she does it naturally, treat her more like an athlete than an academic. Point is, she's had to refine what she does to be that good. More importantly though, you need to show us how attaining that level of mastery has marked her worldview and her skill set. Perhaps she can weave fire with a single breath, but does she know how to dance? Maybe she can call lightning from a cloudless sky, but does she understand how to relate to other people? Especially people who don't see the world in terms of elements and power, but rather in terms of growing seasons and harvests?

By dedicating a character so fully to achieving mastery of one area, she has had to sacrifice learning in other areas. She may find it hard to understand the viewpoints of those who are not as learned as she is, or who can't perform even simple magic. You see this in everyday professions as well; what people do shapes their perceptions of the world. Police officers, even when they're off duty, pay attention to faces and movements just in case something goes wrong in their presence. Medical professionals may find it impossible not to see people as collections of tissues and bones, or symptoms and issues, even when they're at home or at a party. By showing us where a character lacks, we find it easier to accept where he or she succeeds.

Step Four: Take the Test Again

I already gave you the link twice. You're not getting it again.

At The End of The Day...

It's important to remember that not every character who looks like a Mary Sue really is one. Run characters like Batman, Morpheus, Doctor Who, and a dozen others through the test, and they'll be rated as irredeemable Mary Sue characters. People love them despite that rating, and they're all million-dollar institutions.

Why, you might ask? Is it because deep down people really love over-powered escapist fantasy? No. The reason any characters with ridiculous powers and trope-laden backgrounds are popular is because they're compelling. They have depth, emotion, and they suck the readers in. It's also very clear that these characters are their own people; they aren't just super-powered stand-ins for the author, the reader, or anyone else.


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How to Avoid the Dreaded Exposition Dump

Every story needs exposition; there's no way around it. Whether you're writing a gritty, modern thriller in the heart of New York City, or your tale takes place in a fanciful kingdom several worlds away, you need to explain to your audience just what the hell is going on. Without at least a minimally set scene it doesn't matter how great or lovingly you rendered the world; your story won't make sense.

Which way did it go George, which way did it go?

The necessity of exposition has, unfortunately, led to what most people refer to as the exposition dump. This is when writers decide to break all of their action around page five or so (earlier in short stories) in order to shoe horn in a bunch of facts that the reader probably needs to know in order to translate the world, but which have the effect of an anvil dropped from a great height. Some readers might slog through the dump in order to get to the rest of the story, but a lot of them won't.

Fortunately, if you're willing to roll up your sleeves and fire up the backhoe, we can turn this dump into a cleverly camouflaged piece of scenery that's just as effective.

Tip #1: If They Don't Need to Know, Don't Tell Them

Because examples work best, I'll use one to illustrate this point. About a year ago I was invited to participate in an anthology called "Sidekicks" (great book, check it out here), and I wrote a short story titled "Relic of the Red Planet". The simple plot is that in a futuristic, space opera sort of world a collector of rare, alien artifacts has been murdered. His granddaughter enlists the help of an old friend, adventurer and antiquarian Galatea Jones. For backup Galatea calls in a favor from her friend, Martian gun-for-hire Doomsday Blues. Using a public auction as bait to lure out the murderers, whom Galatea suspects were trying to steal a secret part of the dead man's collection, mayhem ensues. When the dust settles, our heroes are victorious.

Now, the story itself is a simple little mystery told in about 5,000 words or so. I could very easily have confused the story, and completely hammered my readers, by including a bunch of extraneous details that, while they would have made the world clearer, simply didn't matter to this particular telling. For instance, did the reader need to know that all of the "aliens" were genetically modified humans designed for life on the more hostile planets of the solar system many thousands of years ago? No, not really. Did I need to make a big deal about what year in the future it was, or how planets like Venus had been altered to support life? Nope. Did I have to explain how interplanetary travel was so advanced? Not in the slightest. All I needed to do was focus on the essentials, which is what I did.

It was just like this. Except with ray guns and aliens.

When writing a story, any story, look at what is essential to understanding the world. You, as the creator, need to know all of it. But if you're loading down a story with a bunch of extraneous material that really doesn't matter, consider cutting it out in favor of keeping the story going.

Tip #2: Show, Don't Tell

I've said it before (right here in this post, in fact), writers should show readers a scene whenever possible. Not only does it keep the story flowing, but it will camouflage the fact that readers have been given critical information. It's kind of like dicing up vegetables and putting them in something tasty so that kids will eat them without even knowing they were there.

Here's a quick example for you. Say you're writing a high fantasy series, and in this series there's an order of knights known as the Foresworn. Now, the important back story might be that these knights are all noble warriors who have fallen from the kingdom's grace, and they are considered persona non grata by the populace at large. They're given suicide missions, and those who survive may once more attain their former rank and earn forgiveness for whatever sins they've committed. Take it a step further, and say that the order is made up of men and women, with ranks and symbols that include death's heads, weighted scales, and black wings.

Being this guy is enough to warrant a life sentence.

Now, assume for a moment that the reader needs to understand some of that in order to grasp why these characters are important. You could go and give an account of how the Foresworn were formed, and list out what each mark of rank means. But why do that when you can just show us a member, and let us draw our own conclusions? Maybe the representative you give us is a big man with a stubbled jaw and greasy hair. Despite his brusque manner and brutish appearance though, his weapons are immaculate and he fights in a way only someone born and trained to war can do. That single action sequence would show us what members are capable of, without the writer having to talk the knights up.

If a single glance isn't enough, then drop a few more hints. Have someone ask him what act he committed to be stripped of rank and title, perhaps. This would let the reader know that despite the armor, and even his birth, the warrior is not considered nobility any longer. Maybe have a member of this organization mention in conversation with her fellows that she's only got two more missions until redemption. These three things give the reader a solid grasp of who the Foresworn are, especially when combined with their name. No matter how cool the history of the order is, or how epic the first knights who began it were, if the readers don't need to know it, see Tip #1.

Tip #3: It's a Bird, It's a Plane... It's Exposition Man!

If you must tell the reader something, then it's best for the statements to come out of your characters' mouths. Cue Exposition Man! By day a humble pathologist, psychologist, neighborhood baker, or dope peddler, but as soon as he comes into contact with protagonists he simply cannot resist the urge to spew forth plot-related details just as quickly as they can ask questions!

You know, it's funny you should ask...

Exposition Man is something of a trope, but he/she/it can often be a very useful plot device. What he does is deliver key information to the reader in such a way that it looks like two characters having a conversation. When done properly Exposition Man has every right to know the things he/she knows about the world and plot, so when the talking trope decides to open up about the goings on of the local crime boss, or expound on the different oaths the Monks of the Eternal Silence supposedly take, the reader doesn't balk and demand to know why they're being made to read pages of text.

Tip #4: Spread it Out

Exposition is hard work. You have to know what you want the reader to know, and you have to dress it up in a way that's pleasing to the eye and easy for the mind to take in. Doing all of that at once is not easy, and in fact it can give you a mental hernia.

Pictured: A wild metaphor in its natural environment.

Don't try to tell your reader absolutely everything up front. For one thing, it creates an information overload that can read like an essay rather than a novel. Secondly, if you actually expect readers to remember content that took place on page 5-7, then said content needs to be short and snappy in order to claim brain space. If you put a guide to your world there, no matter how necessary it might be, readers aren't going to remember it. They sure as hell aren't going to flip back and look things up, either.

In the end, too much spice will spoil your story. Spread your exposition out, and ask yourself how much of it is necessary at this very moment. If you can cut down on exposition in a scene without losing anything, do so. If something is necessary, find a way to include it. If it's something you just think is cool but would need an entire flashback, side conversation, or out-of-nowhere discussion to even bring up, chances are you don't need it.


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Pen Names: Do You Need One?

Before we get started, I want to remind readers that if you give me a pledge during this January on my Patreon page here that you'll be given 3 free stories. Two will come as links in the thank you (everyone gets those), but I will also send you one of my ebooks (which is a limited time offer). All it will cost you is $1 a month.

We now return you to your regularly-scheduled blog post.

One of the most common, non-story publishing questions I see in writers groups (aside from "does anyone know where I can find an agent who will make me rich?") is whether or not someone should use a pen name. There's a lot of encouragement, and more than a little outright vitriol from both sides on the subject. Some people insist that you can't really own your work and be true to yourself if you won't use your real name. Others insist the audience doesn't care about who you really are, and that choosing the right name is the mystical key to best-seller success. The issue is that no one is right in this debate. That said, there are several reasons someone might want to use a nom de plume when it comes time to put a book on the market.

Reason #1: How Do You Spell That?

Talented writers come from all strata of the world, from every ethnicity and every country. Some of us, maybe even a lot of us, have names that really aren't that cool. Worse than being uncool though, is having a name that's hard to remember or difficult to spell.

I'm just saying.

One way we sell books is by having a name that's easy for readers to remember. That way they'll be able to go online and type it in without struggling to remember if there's a "czy" at the end, or if the three Q's are silent. If you've had to live most of your life carefully spelling your name for people, it might be a good idea to use a pseudonym.

Reason #2: Oh, So You're Steven With a "V"

Another unfortunate reality of names is that a lot of people have the same, or similar, names. So if your name happens to be Steven King, and you also writer modern horror stories (but they're set in Utah, so you're totally different), then it might be a good idea to pick a slightly different pen name. While you might be able to catch a few fans from the infamous master of horror who spells his name with a "ph", it's a much better idea to build your own fan base and your own following. It's certainly more reliable than depending on mistaken identity for your monthly bread.

Reason #3: You Want to Rub Jackets With The Greats

While it's not a good idea to be confused for someone that's an established author in the field, it is a great idea to hover nearby writers you want to be compared to and associated with.

You know the kind.

Let's go back to our previous example of a horror writer. If he wanted to be on the same shelf as Stephen King (and technically as Dean Koontz... fame is fame, after all), then he might choose a pen name like Simon Kain. That name is different enough not to be confused, and if someone's eyes are already running down the shelves there's a much better chance they're going to notice that book while looking for something new from a more established author. This is marketing at its finest, and it's one of the most common reasons I've heard of for professionals using pen names.

Reason #4: You Want To Avoid All The "-isms"

One of the ugly, unspoken truths of publishing is that readers are judgmental. I don't mean that they'll rake you over the coals for bad grammar or they'll leave terrible reviews because they disagree with your choice of ending; I mean they're prejudiced, and they make prejudicial decisions.

Yes, you too.

What would you say if I told you people are less likely to buy a novel written by a woman, assuming that novel wasn't a romance or a children's book? What if I told you that a great deal of readers avoid writers of color? These things happen, and they happen with enough regularity that it forces many writers to change their names if they want their stories to be taken seriously. This is particularly true in genres considered male-dominated, like science fiction, horror, and fantasy. David Farlane waxes more on this here, giving some numbers on how many men simply won't read books they perceive to be written by women.

Reason #5: You Want Some Distance From Your Work

Celebrity is an odd work requirement, but authors need it the same as any other artist. As soon as people stop reviewing our books, stop talking about our characters, and stop caring about our new releases, that's when the royalty checks stop coming in. On the other hand, not all writers want to be in the center of the maelstrom. Sometimes it's because they just want to keep their work lives separate from their private lives. Sometimes it's because the author is starting two different projects in different genres, and doesn't want to confuse readers. And, of course, sometimes the work itself is... ummm...

Yeah... that.

For those of you who aren't regular readers of my fiction (most of you here, I'm guessing), The Unusual Transformation of Abraham Carver is a dark steampunk erotica novella released about a year ago. Its readership has been fairly small (you can check it out here if you're interested, complete with sample), but those who've read it generally had positive feedback. Including my mother.

That is the sort of thing a pen name lets you avoid. Whether you wrote a gore-splattered creature feature, or a gasp-filled bodice ripper, a pseudonym lets you keep your personal life separate from your professional work. For some writers that is a limelight they will happily duck right out of.

In The End

Do you need a pen name to sell books? No. Can a pen name help you sell books? It can, but it's no guarantee. Every writer has to decide whether or not a pen name is the right choice for his or her career, and for the impression that writer wants the audience to get. Sometimes the decision is easy, and other times the ego might get in the way and demand recognition. When all is said and done though, a pen name won't make you a better writer. It might get you noticed, but it won't change anything other than your byline.


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The Big R: How to Deal With Rape in Your Fiction

Fiction is often a mirror onto the reality in which an author lives. Even in the most outlandish fantasy or the most far-flung sci-fi writers have to inject realism into the thoughts, behaviors, and actions of their characters. Not all of those actions are pleasant. In fact, some of them are downright horrendous. Rape is one of those actions.

Let us make no bones about just how common rape is. The numbers reported by the Department of Justice (and found at the homepage for Rape, Abuse and Incest National Network here) estimate that at least 1 in 6 women are victims of rape or attempted rape in America today. That rough 16% is based off the reported numbers, and common wisdom says the numbers are even higher than that because of the number of rapes that go unreported. Additionally, 3% of American men are also victims of rape, with the same caveat that rape is a severely under-reported crime. So yeah, including rape in a story does inject an element of horrid realism. That isn't the problem. The problems are some of these other things.

Problem #1: Making Rape Sexy

Rape is a total violation. It is the use of someone's body without their consent, often through violence. It leaves scars that can damage someone's psyche for life, and it represents a complete betrayal of someone's trust. I don't know why someone would try to put a glossy coat of sexy on this, but apparently there are writers out there who have. It is for that reason that even the most salacious erotica publishers have in big, red neon "No rape for titillation" on their submission guidelines.

Under. No. Circumstances.

Let's clear the air on this one. Lots of people enjoy forceful sex. They enjoy holding their partners down, or being held down, and being taken hard. However, rape is not about the type of sex someone has; it's about consent. Rape is not sex; it is an act which happens to involve penetration, but it is not about the intercourse itself. It's about someone's willingness to participate, and about that person's volition. It doesn't matter what physical form rape takes, whether there's leather and chains or candlelight and mood music; once that consent goes away, the act becomes rape.

On the one hand, yes, there is a marked appeal of rape as a fantasy. According to Psychology Today's entry here surveys of women's sexual fantasies consistently turn up at least a 40% of women who regularly have rape fantasies. On the other hand, I would personally be willing to wager that none of the women surveyed who are of sound mind and body would like to be raped in real life. That's the difference between fantasy and reality.

But isn't my story just a fantasy? some writers might ask. Yes and no. On the one hand if you're writing a piece of fiction, then yes, you are creating events that did not happen. On the other hand, authors have a responsibility to create a real, believable world. The depiction of that world is important, and by attempting to make rape into something sensual, by focusing on the pleasure the rapist feels or paying an inordinate amount of attention to the victim's body and reactions, authors are sure to snap the suspension of disbelief. Or worse they'll create a world in which raping someone is considered the sexiest thing one person can do to another, thus giving it the social rubber stamp that normalizes it.

Problem #2: Definition by Rape

This is perhaps the simplest example of lazy writing I can think of, and it is given a pass time, and time again. I'm looking at you Nora Roberts, and at least the first few books of your "In Death" series. A female character (sometimes a male character, but that's very rare) is raped. Maybe it was a random man at a bar, maybe it was her father, maybe it was even multiple persons, but whoever it was the rape changed her. It made her what she is today... and that's the problem.

Something's missing... I can feel it...

Once again, rape is a horrible experience. It can alter the way a person sees him or herself, and it leaves wounds that will be a long time healing. It is not, however, the only reason a person becomes who they are. Your characters, just like real people, are a collection of a lifetime of decisions and choices, experiences and actions. Being raped is often important, but so is losing a child, suffering from a terminal disease, going through a warzone, or recovering from drug use. None of these traits should wholly define who a character is, even if some of them are more visible than others.

There's one last, important note on this section as well. Defining a character through the short hand of the rape survivor is used almost exclusively for female characters. On the one hand, yes, women are victims of rape more often than men. Don't be fooled though; this insidious bit of sexism is used to create an optical illusion that a shallow character with a single, defining trait actually has depth. There are no shortcuts to making a rounded character, including a horrible back story.

Problem #3: Trauma Drama

If you were to ask an average person-on-the-street what the worst thing one human being could do to another was, rape would be near the top of the list.

Because average people lack twisted imaginations.

While the horror writers might have chuckled at that, the sentiment isn't very funny when you look at it. So often in fiction characters are raped not because it's an important part of the story, but because the writer wants to create tension. Rape does this, without question... but is that all you could come up with?

Rape has become the knee-jerk reaction when lazy writers want to do something terrible to characters without killing them off in order to keep the plot interesting. Just shop around for a little bit and read how often this happens. Ask yourself why? Why rape? Why not having someone's good looks permanently ruined with a scar and missing teeth? Why not having their house broken into and a cherished family heirloom stolen? Why not losing a limb in a car wreck, or developing a mental condition that makes the character struggle just to get through the day? If it isn't crucial to your story, cut it out and move on.

Problem #4: Making the Victim a Means

One of the worst things about rape as an act is that it turns someone from a person into an object. They are acted upon, and thus they were stripped of identity, of meaning, and in a real sense of their personhood. With that said, why would a writer do that accidentally by making rape in a story about anything other than the rape itself?

There are better ways to make villains evil.

This happens a lot when the writer is looking for ways to make the bad guy seem more vicious or evil. This in turn makes the hero all the more heroic when he defeats the villain, and sets his victims free from a life of sexual violence and objectification. Notice something in this setup? The rape victims are pawns; set pieces whose only purpose is to cast brighter lights on the good guy, and darker shadows on the bad guy.

Don't. Just don't. If you're including rape in your story, then take a long, hard look at what that rape is doing. If it's only purpose is to make the bad guy twirl his mustache, or the hero step up to protect a nameless, faceless woman, then you are doing it wrong. If you want to make better bad guys, look here instead.

Problem #5: Not Doing Your Research

Writers are consistently hammered with the idiom "write what you know". However, a more useful maxim is "know what you're writing". If you're going to include rape in your story then take that second one to heart. Write it on your wall. Tattoo it on the back of your eyelids. Carve it into the skulls of your enemies.

Whatever you need to do.

Jim C. Hines makes a big point out of this in an entry he wrote for Apex Magazine here. Hines says when it comes to rape he's seen so many mistakes in who commits rape, who gets raped, and what decisions lead to rape that it reads like a formulaic guide on how to write an offensive scene. It isn't that someone is being raped. It's that someone is being raped by a scruffy nobody in the back of a deserted parking garage when the victim had been drinking. And the guy has a knife. Because symbolism.

It's your world, and it's your story. If your character is one of the remarkably few cases of stranger rape (most rapes are committed by persons known to the victim), and if that rapist is an angry, recalcitrant thug unable to approach women (it's much more common for rapists to be normal people, or even highly charismatic ones), then that's your business. But if you're going to take on the task of portraying rape as part of your story, then don't shirk at your due diligence.


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