The Magic Mirror

by Gary Fearon, Southern Writers Magazine

When Romper Room (1953-1994) was on the air, each region did its own version of this kiddie show using a local TV host. Mine had "Miss Jean." I remember little about the show itself beyond its signature segment that always began with these words:

Romper, Bomper, Stomper, Boo
Tell me, tell me, tell me, do
Magic Mirror, tell me today
Have all my friends had fun at play?

After this incantation, each regional host would look at the camera and recite the first names of a handful of children in her viewing audience ("I see Jimmy, and I see Cindy..."). Presumably these were the kids whose parents had written in on their behalf. Maybe she supplemented with random names for good measure. Even at my young age I considered that possibility, though it was still a mild thrill when she happened to speak my name, and for that moment it did feel a bit magical.

Spreading similar joy to the other end of the age spectrum, weatherman Willard Scott took it a step further on The Today Show when he would congratulate someone on their 90th or 100th birthday and show their photo (brought to you by Smucker's). No doubt these nonagenarians and centenarians got much the same thrill as Romper Room's pre-schoolers did at the mention of their name, age and city.

These simple factoids delivered from stranger to stranger are often our own starting point when we're creating characters for our story. We typically begin with the standard details like their name; we have a general sense of their age, and we place them in some setting. But, like Miss Jean or Mr Scott, we don't know much of anything about them until we fill in some essential details.

At this point, writers will often work up a fact sheet, chronicling such details as the characters' hair color, eye color, height, weight, race, education, where they were born, etc. Some authors go so far as to include mannerisms, pet phrases, quirks, whether the character has an accent, and so on. These tactics are helpful and come in especially handy if there are multiple characters to keep track of.

That said, a fact sheet provides merely a sketch of the character. That's when many authors dig deeper to flesh out their character by exploring his/her motivations, belief system, hopes, and fears. What childhood incident left an emotional scar? What achievements give them strength? What have been the turning points in their life? Answering questions like these brings our stick figure character to life by giving him a soul.

Remember to include irony and conflict in your character's psyche; that is, who they want to be versus what is holding them back. Often they are their own biggest hurdle. As author/philosopher Albert Camus said, "Man is the only creature who refuses to be what he is."

A writer who has clearly tuned into their protagonist rarely regrets having invested the time to do so. The result is an authentic and well-defined character qualified to mirror the magic of your story.


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Five Positions for Your Exposition

by Gary Fearon, Creative Director, Southern Writers Magazine

"Too much information" is known as such for good reason. There is a point at which communicating the facts jumps the fence beyond relevance and becomes overwhelming. TMI can kill conversation, take down empires, and ruin an otherwise good story. Knowing where to draw the line is one of the marks of a savvy storyteller.

Ideally, the reader should never realize they're getting backstory. Here are five proven ways to deliver details with finesse.

1. Be patient.
You know everything your reader needs to know and may be eager to get it out in the open, but the opening chapter isn't the place to share the hero's life story. Getting accustomed to the characters, the setting, the mood, and a hint at what the story's about, is a lot to take in, so give the audience time to assimilate it. More importantly, give them time to care about any of it. Once they've become invested in what's going on, they will appreciate learning the finer points.

2. Know when to hold 'em.
Kenny Rogers had the right idea in "The Gambler" when he sang of life as a poker game.  A well-told story exhibits the same principles of timing and restraint. If there's a lot of backstory, don't spill everything at once. Play your hands strategically and keep the ace up your sleeve for the right moment, when the audience will be most surprised by the revelation.

3. Pick a fight.
There's no better way to hide exposition than to distract with drama. Conflict is always interesting, and if the audience in tuned into trouble, they will scarcely notice that they are also learning backstory. An argument at a family reunion can reveal someone's drinking problem or the origins of a grievance between siblings. Compare the heightened energy of such a scene to a placid conversation that covers the same information.

Forrest Gump is almost entirely told via flashbacks.

4. Flashbacks can be fun.
This is an especially popular device used for villains and victims. The killer spots a stranger scolding a child, which triggers the memory of his own father beating him. The girl visits a beach and has visions of herself and her now-deceased boyfriend frolicking in the sand.

5. Get the picture.
Gotta pull out the old "show and tell" here. A picture is worth more than a thousand words if the audience can see for themselves that the heroine is a shoplifter or the attorney is slid a bribe from the opposing side. Letting the audience figure out some things on their own encourages them to be a participant in the story.

Remember, a discerning reader readily picks up on bungled backstory, so the fewer words it takes to give a history lesson, the better. When it comes to exposition, there's a lot to be said for not saying a lot.

What Are Your Headlines?

by Gary Fearon, Creative Director, Southern Writers Magazine

Apparently Mark Zuckerberg became a father this weekend, for the second time. Yahoo deemed this newsworthy, and as I read this headline and a few others, something struck me that relates to storytelling.

Who cares?

I'm not suggesting nobody cares, what I'm asking is who is it that cares? Certainly it's a life-changing event for the parents of any new child, so they go at the top of the list. Next in line would be their families, then friends, then associates, and so on. At some point fans of the co-founder of Facebook presumably care, as do writers for Yahoo.

Meanwhile, North Korea was testing hydrogen bombs.

There you have one news story with limited impact on the average person's life, and another news story with considerably greater potential. Which of these stories, if you were to put them in your novel, would keep your reader up at night turning pages?

Fact is, either one is fair game, since a comedy-drama can easily exploit the challenges of something as normal as parenthood, while the threat of nuclear war is a spy thriller staple. Perhaps even better, combine them: if the undercover agent's wife or daughter has just given birth, does that not raise the stakes for the hero?

The point is, every life event, however big or small, can have a role in a story if it furthers the plot or adds a layer of interest. Like reporters always looking for a scoop, storytellers need look no further than the daily events around us to find plausible plot points and twists.

As you look back over your own life, there are certain episodes that stand out in your mind more than others. These headlines of your life are step one if you're writing a memoir, but any one of them makes you uniquely qualified to fictionalize it as an event in your novel. You had to live through it; why not capitalize on it?

It's good to think of the significant events in your novel as if they were headlines, and to make each one newsworthy. Some may be a personal crisis just for the hero while others may be the basis for widespread panic. Give your characters captivating headlines to live out, and your audience will stick around to read all about it.

Constant Conflict

by Gary Fearon, Creative Director, Southern Writers Magazine


One of the Oscar Best Picture contenders earlier this year was Hacksaw Ridge, directed by Mel Gibson and based on the 1967 book The Unlikeliest Hero: The Story of Desmond T. Doss.  HBO just had another of their free weekends, so I watched the film again, and doing so reminded me of something:

I love boot camp.

Mind you, I'm a peace-loving guy with pacifist leanings, but I've always been riveted by scenes involving new recruits meeting their drill sergeant and being taken through the rigors of basic training.  

Hollywood loves war movies. Conflict is perhaps never portrayed bigger and bolder than in a battle scene.  But the face-to-face tension of an underdog trying to keep it together under dire conditions is human drama we can all relate to.

A workplace with a tyrant boss, a classroom with an unreasonable teacher, in-laws who can't be pleased, even domestic quarrels, are ready sources of inherent tension that can escalate our protagonist's real problems. Such challenges come in infinite varieties, but if they are resolved as part of a happy ending, these subplots are typically addressed in one of two ways:

1. The troublemaker gets their comeuppance. The conniving co-worker is exposed, the miserly uncle gets arrested for embezzlement, the contentious neighbor breaks a leg falling off a ladder, and the hero is right there to enjoy it.

2. The troublemaker turns out to be ally. The overzealous drill sergeant eventually reveals his human side. When the hero rises to the challenge and their strained relationship takes on a hint of mutual respect, it becomes clear that everything the sergeant put him through was for his own good. That moment feels like a satisfying character arc in its own right.

As we talked about in my recent Suite T post ("Who Is Your Contagonist?"), anyone or anything that stands in the way of our hero's success makes for good conflict along the way. Those everyday scenarios that we inflict on our hero can cause hardship right along with the actual antagonist.

Page-turning prose relies on the story's ability to keep the problems coming.  Providing that steady supply of friction in your fiction can ensure that your reader doesn't go AWOL.

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The Other Faces of Conflict

by Gary Fearon, Creative Director, Southern Writers Magazine


When we think of antagonists from literature, we typically think of the classic villains like Captain Hook, Injun Joe, The Wicked Witch of the West, Hannibal Lecter, Dracula, and the other memorable personifications of evil.  But there are many other faces of conflict not of the human variety that can be put to good use in a story.

Many children's books choose not to pit the hero against another person.  Instead, the dilemma comes from a small difficulty that can be turned into a problem-solving life lesson.  A terrific example is Pete the Cat, who loves his white shoes. When he steps in strawberries that turn his shoes red, what follows is a simple but brilliant story about learning to accept and love yourself, cleverly disguised as a tale about shoes.

Even as adults, conflict in story teaches us to deal with life, each dilemma in its own small way representing the eternal struggle.  A problem is a problem, no matter what form it takes.  Here, then, are some classic inhuman antagonists:

Man vs Beast
What's worse than someone you can't even reason with?  How about someone that wants to eat you? Ask the heroes of Jaws if their adversary doesn't pose a lethal threat.  The irony is that the shark isn't fishing for trouble; he's just doing what comes naturally 'cause it's feeding time.  Likewise, the great white whale in Moby Dick may or may not understand the concept of revenge, but it knows all about self-preservation.

The Great Outdoors
Stephen King's The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon is one of many examples of a protagonist trying to survive in the wilderness. Again, there is irony in the fact that a forest, waterfall, mountain, etc mean no harm; they don't even have a conscience.  But it's a jungle out there, and a babe in the woods goes back to basic human survival.

Not to say that a tornado or a tempest can't stir up some additional trouble on their own.  The Perfect Storm, Earthquake and Twister are cinematic examples of how Mother Nature can be a real shrew.

Hard Times
Nellie Olsen wasn't the only thorn in Laura Ingalls' side in her Little House on the Prairie books.  Tales set in the Old West are particularly filled with the struggle just to make it through life under primitive or poverty-stricken conditions. Mix in some of the previous elements like a grizzly bear or no rain for growing crops and you have a multi-layered prairie of pain.

Conflict in Nonfiction
Even when we're writing nonfiction, it's not hard to find conflict because life wouldn't be life without it.  My recently-published short story "Family Tree" in Stories of Music, Volume 2 is primarily a retrospective of the musical family I grew up in.  I wasn't particularly seeking a way to add conflict or even drama to this memoir; it just happened organically because it was a tragedy that put a stop to the musical collaboration in my family, and, ironically, another tragedy is what brought it all back with new magic.

A good guy facing off against a bad guy is classic drama.  But fighting off the challenges of everyday life are readily available story helpers to add extra conflict, or take it out of the mano a mano realm altogether.

Causing Trouble

by Gary Fearon, Creative Director, Southern Writers Magazine

Most sane people don't go around looking for trouble.  In fact, they do their best to avoid it. More often than not, trouble finds them instead. A flat tire, a power outage, a computer crash — no one anticipates calamity, much less extends an invitation to it.

But when conjuring up a story, mayhem can be our best friend.

Since conflict gives fiction its fire, we do well to put our natural human instinct for self-preservation aside and actively invoke troubled times, at least for our main character. The better the obstacles between them and their goal, the more compelling the story.

Since trouble comes in many different flavors, the genre will often dictate the appropriate realm of ruin to choose from. A lover's quarrel that would send Bridget Jones running to her diary is unlikely to hound Sherlock Holmes while investigating a Baskerville murder. Deciphering whether alien messages are friendly or declarations of war would probably be too out of this world for a child's book.

Indeed, the age and life circumstances of the intended reader is a ready yardstick for measuring the severity of impending doom. Dealing with a school bully is sufficient drama for a student reader, while a mature audience is capable of pondering the end of mankind. If your protagonist is the approximate age of your typical reader, it's easy to throw the appropriate curveballs their way and have them struggle authentically.

The most tried-and-true obstacle is another character who seeks the opposite outcome. The murderer will do everything in his power to prevent being captured. The handsome rancher has vowed never to fall in love again. A cut-throat coworker connives to get the big promotion instead of our hero.

As we know, making trouble for our protagonists is simply a matter of giving them a goal and then putting roadblocks in their way. We can think of our storyline as a maze, where the hero/heroine knows where they need to go, but getting there is just one problem after another thanks to all the obstacles in the way.

"The trouble with trouble," it's been said, "is that it always starts out as fun."  Have fun being the real troublemaker in your story.  It's the one time you don't have to worry about getting punished.

Ending Is Better Than Pending

by Gary Fearon, Creative Director, Southern Writers Magazine

Over lunch some years ago, I was taken aback when a friend declared that he usually reads the last page of a book before deciding whether to read the whole thing. It seemed like a highly irregular approach to me. Since then, however, a smattering of other acquaintances have echoed that they too engage in this practice.

"Why would you want to read the book after you know how it ends?" I ask.  The answer may vary, but it invariably involves a defense that it doesn't diminish their enjoyment.  They argue something about a good story standing up to repeat visits, like a favorite movie.  At that point the conversation turns into a discussion of our favorite movies, and we never get back to the original subject.

If some booklovers like to start at the finish line, more power to them. In fact, starting at the end isn't just a favored trait of the odd reader, it is also a winning strategy of many writers.

Mystery authors in particular must possess a sense of whodunit and howtheydunit long before the climactic chapters.  How else can clues and red herrings be strategically planted along the way?

Truth is, foreknowledge of the finale isn't just for mystery writers.  No matter the genre, there are multiple benefits to be had, even for pantsers devoted to writing freeform.

Having decided on the ending allows for preparing for the big finish in ways that will enhance it. Imagine an ending where the newlywed heroes are driving off into the sunset in a purple Corvette. Pleasant enough ending. But it can add an extra layer of emotional satisfaction if, earlier in the story, that very vehicle was out of reach to them in a showroom.

The opportunity to foreshadow is another plus to knowing where you're going.  If the young man's future father-in-law is the CEO of a boat manufacturing company, how much richer would it be if his own dad took him fishing every weekend?

Perhaps the biggest benefit to having the ending already mapped out is that it will keep you from wasting time writing nonessential scenes that don't push the plot in the right direction. Your first draft will have more focus and there'll be less to leave on the cutting room floor.

Whether we're working toward a bitter end or a happily-ever-after, a well-planned finish from the start can become a story's be-all and end-all.

Didn't See It Coming

by Gary Fearon, Creative Director, Southern Writers Magazine

People love surprises when it's something good like an unexpected gift or bumping into an old friend at the grocery store. Other surprises, say an eviction notice or a fender bender, not so much.  But one thing readers always enjoy is the element of surprise in a story.

It's no surprise that mystery readers analyze every clue they can find in an attempt to figure out whodunit, and indeed the whole point is to earn the right to say, "I knew it all along."  But it's an added bonus if something that didn't even seem like a clue turns out to be a missing link.  

However, red herrings needn't be limited to mysteries. Don't you love it when someone who works for the bad guy ends up becoming an ally of the good guy? Turning the tables in a twist that compliments the plot or complicates things for the hero makes a story come alive.

Many a tale has benefited from an important person or prop initially dismissed as inconsequential.  A man we thought was a blind beggar warns a young guy about an angry girlfriend he saw enter the apartment building. A birthday bouquet we assumed was sent to a nursing home invalid by her daughter was actually arranged for by a fellow patient.

This cat never suspected a thing.

Another very popular technique is to surprise not the reader, but rather the main character.  Let the audience know the hero is about to inherit a circus.  Reveal that the in-laws are arriving for Thanksgiving a day early in hopes of pleasing the newlyweds.  Being in on an upcoming surprise gives the reader omnipotence, and the anticipation of what will happen when the protagonist finds out allows them to be a virtual participant in the story.

Perhaps the most powerful surprise of all is when the ending turns everything upside down and makes you rethink the meaning of the entire story.  The Sixth Sense and Planet of the Apes did that, and I can't help thinking of Psycho whenever I think of rethinking. 

Predictability has a certain comfort factor to it, but it's the element of surprise that enthralls and keeps readers coming back for more.  If you find your story is lacking momentum, inject the unexpected.  You may be pleasantly surprised.

When Genres Collide

by Gary Fearon, Creative Director, Southern Writers Magazine

One can only guess what Jane Austen would think of the novel Pride and Prejudice and Zombies.  In 2009, author Seth Grahame-Smith and Quirk Books cleverly capitalized on a current hot topic by sinking their teeth into Austen's 1813 classic, creating a new novel of manners and monsters.  A movie of the same name made it to theaters in February 2016.

Call it a parody, call it a mashup, but whatever you do, don't call it a one hit wonder.  Pride and Prejudice and Zombies started a zombie apocalypse of its own, inspiring other authors to write such twisted tomes as:

• Alice in Zombieland
• Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters
• Little Women and Werewolves
• William Shakespeare's Star Wars: The Empire Striketh Back
• Grave Expectations
• Android Karenina 

Grahame-Smith continued to contribute more of his own fangy fare with 2010's Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter.

Even fairy tales have not been safe from those who would rewrite history. That Risen Snow: A Scary Tale of Snow White and Zombies picks up where happily ever after leaves off. It turns out that Snow's resurrection doesn't come without a certain complication.  Which makes me fear for Sleeping Beauty, who was dead to the world even longer than Snow before her prince showed up.

More than simply grabbing the coattails of a passing fad, a good hybrid novel not only captures the spirit of the original material but adds its own page-turning twists.  Another popular genre, Steampunk, shares a similar premise of mixing the ordinary with the extraordinary.  In this, H.G. Wells was well before his time.

Author Kerry Nietz shared how he came up with his novel Amish Vampires in Space in the May 2014 issue of Southern Writers: "For me, it was an interesting mental challenge. Could I intersect three genres—Science Fiction, Amish, and Vampires—and produce a compelling and plausible story?" Nietz succeeded, and followed up with 2015's Amish Zombies in Space. 

Perhaps you can think of other mashup possibilities.  I myself would enjoy a novel in which Sherlock Holmes matches wits with The Mad Hatter.  These two insane geniuses on opposite ends of the mental health spectrum would make for a very fun read indeed.

But let's not stop there.  Might I also suggest these titles, just ripe for the writing:

• Calamity Jane Eyre
• Little Orphan Annie of Green Gables
• Green Eggs and Hamlet

With so many genre mashups yet to be tapped, don't be dismayed if the zombie and vampire trend is not the bandwagon you feel like hopping on.  All you need is a little imagination to come up with another idea worth fleshing out.

All Action and No Talk

by Gary Fearon, Creative Director, Southern Writers Magazine

British audiences love American cinema.  Hollywood films have always been very successful across the pond.  Ironically, we don't seem to return the favor.  Comparatively few British films achieve major success here in the States.  One reason, experts have determined, is that American movies contain 1/3 less dialogue than British films.

Think of any British movie (or TV series, for that matter).  Conversation is basically nonstop.  Sometimes the only pause is for an establishing shot, and then they're right back at it again. Even an action flick like James Bond will have more dialogue than most, which makes sense since exposition is what espionage is all about.

They say the reason for this dates back to the 1930s, when movies were still young.  Once the silent film era ended and talkies were possible, British cinema went for intellectual, heady dramas, while America's post-war influx of non-English-speaking immigrants caused filmmakers to rely less on the spoken word and more on the action.  Musicals were extremely popular, and Gene Kelly's long dance numbers caught on with people of any language.

I'm reminded of a CD a friend recommended years ago and gave me for my birthday, an album by a foreign soprano who sang many of the selections in Italian.  Since the only Italian I know involves pasta dishes, the music and the performances had to work extra hard to get my attention, which they did.  I remember marveling at how effectively emotions were conveyed despite my lacking any understanding of the message.

The orchestration, of course, did much of the heavy lifting.  If, by the same token, you were to listen to a spoken radio broadcast in a foreign language you don't know, chances are there would be a total failure to communicate.

2012's Best Picture Oscar winner,  The Artist, is a silent film relying largely on what the audience sees rather than hears (or, in this case, reads). Pixar's Wall-E (2008) is an even stronger example of delivering an entire story without the use of words.

There's a legendary scene in the classic On the Waterfront where Marlon Brando's brother threatens him in the back of a cab, pointing a gun at him.  The disappointment on Brando's face and the gentle way he moves the gun away conveys more pathos than any diatribe a writer could have put in his mouth at that moment.

By now you may be reminded of the old adage "Show, don't tell", and indeed, all of the above makes a decent argument for that philosophy.  I bring it up not necessarily to promote writing less dialogue, but to encourage greater appreciation for the power of imagery, whether on the screen or in a novel.

We are, after all, visual people.  The quote "Believe half of what you see and none of what you hear" is attributed to everyone from Mark Twain to Edgar Allen Poe to Benjamin Franklin.  I myself heard it through the grapevine from Marvin Gaye.   I don't know how true that statement is, but I'll believe it when I see it.

Writing Prompts You Can Use Today

by Gary Fearon, Creative Director, Southern Writers Magazine

I'll admit it.  Every once in a while I get stuck for a story idea, and when I'm desperate enough, I resort to googling "writing prompts".  Inevitably it's a dead end because "Write about your favorite Christmas memory" or "What's your biggest pet peeve" isn't what I have in mind. 

When talking to writers, I'm always curious to learn whether they like to listen to music while they work, or whether they prefer to have it as quiet as possible. Being aurally oriented myself, I enjoy knowing that many authors listen to music that fits the mood of whatever they're writing.  A website like AccuRadio can provide a running backdrop of soundtracks ranging from romance to horror.

That atmospheric approach provides effective support when you already know what to write. But have you ever considered turning to music as a way of inspiring an idea?  Songs are just one of several readily-available story starters that are easily overlooked.

SONG TITLES
A good song title can make a good writing prompt.  For example, don't each of these classic phrases conjure something you could build a scenario around?

• Heartbreak Hotel
• Georgia on My Mind
• Born to Run
• Blowin' in the Wind
• King of the Road
• Behind Closed Doors
• When Doves Cry

If you're worried about stealing an existing song title, even other songwriters are prone to borrow a good idea for themselves.  Over the years, each of these song titles have been used ten times or more for very different radio hits:

• Call Me
• Crazy
• Hold On
• I Want You
• Runaway
• Smile 
• Stay
• Without You

Song titles can't be copyrighted any more than novel titles can.  Even a more involved title like "Have I Told You Lately That I Love You" has been used two separate times, in hits for Gene Autry and Rod Stewart.  Steal away.

STORY SONGS
Country music in particular has provided a wealth of songs that tell a story.  Premises like these could be given different titles, different characters, and adapted into entirely new tales:

• Ode to Billie Joe
• The Night the Lights Went Out in Georgia
• Harper Valley P.T.A.
• Coward of the County

BTW all of the above became critically panned movies or TV shows.  I'm sure you can do better. 

CLICHES
A popular phrase has the bonus of familiarity to add immediate appeal.  The writers of these songs can attest to that:

• Bad Blood
• Bad to the Bone
• Every Rose Has Its Thorn
• One Bad Apple 
• Over My Head
• Take It Easy
• That's What Friends Are For
• You Ain't Seen Nothin' Yet

RANDOM SENTENCES FROM NOVELS
Here are a few phrases I grabbed just now from the middle of three old books in my office.  I'll wager any of these would be the nucleus of a decent story idea:

"It soon became clear, first to his family, then to the village, that he had changed."

"He told his secretary that he was in the States on a special assignment. She was a bit hurt by his secrecy, but thought nothing more of it."

"He was overcome with emotion, with dreams of her in their younger days, the youthful beauty that he had taken for granted and had been lucky enough to find again."

FIRST LINE PROMPTS
Lastly, there are several websites that generate random first lines. The following are courtesy of http://writingexercises.co.uk/firstlinegenerator.php  Could you do something with these opening lines?

"He'd had a bad day and just needed something to make him feel better."

"The horse came back alone."

"The whole family had been cursed since..."

FINAL THOUGHTS
Writing prompts aren't just useful for creating story ideas; they can also come in handy in the middle of a novel when things need to take an unexpected turn.

I hope one or more of these tips come in handy for your next story.  Speaking of which, you still have time to enter your latest masterpiece in Southern Writers' 2016 Short Story Fiction Contest (the deadline is June 30; get details here).  Have fun and good luck!

In the Summertime

by Gary Fearon, Creative Director, Southern Writers Magazine


Down here in the South, most students have just wrapped up their school year and begun their summer vacation.  Up North, many kids are still hitting the books, and will continue to well into June.  Officially, the calendar says the first day of Summer is June 20th.  But the days have been hot and summery enough lately that many Southerners consider Memorial Day Weekend the start of the sunny solstice.

"Summertime and the livin' is easy," said George and Ira Gershwin (actually, it was DuBose Heyward, the author of Porgy, the novel on which Porgy and Bess was based).  Regardless of whether your daddy's rich and your mama's good lookin', there are plenty of folks who dispute Porgy's sentiment because Summer often means juggling even more things than usual.

It's not necessarily bad stuff, just more stuff.  We tend to fill our summers with as much as we can, hoping to make up for all the months when we've worked so hard, feeling like this is the only chance we have to do the things we don't have enough time for. 

Which brings me to the question, did you make any writing resolutions back in January?  Did you pledge to write a page a day?  500 words a day?  More importantly, have you been successful?  I've pondered that very subject with a number of authors lately, and, like me, most of them were faithful to their goals for at least a week.

As honorable people, we make it a point to live up to the promises we make to others.  Commitments we make to ourselves, however, are too easy to break, since no one's around to punish us.  But don't we do just that, with feelings of disappointment in ourselves, regret, and lost opportunity?  If we had started on that novel in January and kept at it for the last 150 days, even a 500-word goal would mean 75,000 words under our belt today.

Stephen King says he writes 2,000 words a day.  Julia Cameron shoots for three pages, roughly 750 words.  Your own mileage will vary, as it should, and you might do well to start small.  On those days when you surprise yourself because you've written 3,000 words, you'll know you've gotten back your groove.

To those authors who manage to write two or more books a year, I'm preaching to the choir.  I don't know how you do it, but I love you for being a source of hope for the rest of us.

500 words a day is an easy task when you're having fun.  As a matter of fact, this blog post is exactly 500 words long. 

As you enthusiastically make your other plans for the summer, I encourage you to include a recommitment to (or the initiation of) your writing resolution. Remember how important writing is to you and how good it would feel to get your book written by December 31st.

Then your resolution for 2017 could be all about your next book.

Short and Sweet

by Gary Fearon, Creative Director, Southern Writers Magazine


Yesterday I woke up to the sound of my house phone ringing at 5:30 a.m.  I didn't recognize the area code on the caller ID, but at that hour was too groggy to question whether it was someone ignoring the Do Not Call list, so I answered it.

The man on the line sounded too hesitant to be a telemarketer, and when he asked for me by name I confirmed that I was he.  I prepared myself for bad news about a friend or a distant family member.  However, he went on to tell me he was from Pennsylvania and had found my wallet that I'd lost on a vacation in Hershey over a decade ago.  He found it way back at that time but never turned it in, and instead spent the $500 worth of traveler's checks and cash that were in my wallet.

In recent years, this fellow became so wracked with guilt, he explained, that he replaced the money and vowed to track me down and return it with his apologies.  He offered to either mail it to me or, because he will actually be in my city next month, deliver it in person and treat me to lunch at the restaurant of my choice.  I told him I would indeed like to meet him and shake his hand for his honesty, but lunch wouldn't be necessary.

I'll stop right here because I want to confess that the majority of this story in totally made up.  You may ask where the truth ends and the fallacy begins.  Actually, it's right after "Yesterday I woke up".  No early morning phone call, no lost wallet, and anyone who knows me knows I'd never turn down a free lunch.

Forgive me for taking you on that little ride, but those 229 words were more interesting that what really happened yesterday morning, which involved little more than a bowl of Special K.  My goal was not to mislead but to illustrate that from the moment we wake up there is potential for endless stories, springboarding from the inconsequential moments that occur throughout the day right up to the time we hit the hay.

Countless authors find their inspiration from such things as the daily headlines.  From local crimes to human interest stories, the random mention of someone else's experience is prime fodder to be embellished or reimagined into a sensational story.

As an example, in the above scenario, lunch with this stranger could develop into a friendship that changes lives, or it could be part of a devious plot that turns into a horrible nightmare. Depending on the mood and the intent of the writer, the simplest story can take any fascinating direction.

I'm often reminded of a conversation I once had with author Frank Tuttle.  Although he writes both novels and short stories, he has a special fondness for the short story form because once he sits down with an idea he allows it to take him wherever it chooses to.  Capturing these tales of the unexpected off the cuff with no outline, the short stories he writes can be as surprising and entertaining to him as they are to his readers.

I encourage you to train your writer's brain to be more alert throughout each day for those overlooked moments that could be the nucleus of a great story.  And when you find one, be sure to enter it in Southern Writers' Fifth Annual Short Story contest, which is going on right now.  You'll find complete details at: http://www.southernwritersmagazine.com/shorts.html

Entries are being accepted thru June 30, 2016, so you still have time to find that idea and turn it into $250 cash.  Good luck!

Gone But Not Forgotten

by Gary Fearon, Creative Director, Southern Writers Magazine


(Warning: may contain spoilers)

You gotta love this title.

A good protagonist is like a good friend.  Over time we get attached to them as if they were members of the family.  So when writers decide to kill them off, a little piece of us dies with them.

The Grim Reaper is no stranger to series like House of Cards, The 100, Game of Thrones and, like the title implies, The Walking Dead.  Cop shows and mysteries feature death in virtually every episode, but when the deceased is a fan favorite, it's a shocking turn of events.

In a recent conversation with a writer friend, I was mourning the loss of a primary character on one of the few dramas I follow, The Blacklist. After my rant, they in turn bemoaned the impending doom soon to befall a key character on a drama they follow just as avidly.  All of this is on the heels of the recent blockbuster Batman vs Superman, in which a beloved character meets their demise.

Meanwhile, here I am, still getting over Edith Bunker dying on an episode of Archie Bunker's Place in 1980.

I also never figured out why it was necessary to kill off Dan Conner in the final 1997 episode of Rosanne, when it was already going off the air.  But then again, Rosanne was often funny that way. Or not funny that way.

Getting rid of a main character on a TV series is sometimes the result of a pregnancy, a contract dispute, or some other irreconcilable difference.  Fortunately, writers of book series don't get painted into such corners with actors, so literary deaths have a bit more intentionality to them.  It seems the more dystopian the setting, the more likely it is that one or more of the good guys won't make it to the last installment.

No matter the medium, extinguishing a popular character is a bold move.  More than one author has faced backlash from angry readers afterwards.  J.K. Rowling alone has made postmortem apologies all but an annual tradition. As far back as 1893, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle felt the brunt of a perturbed public when he killed off Sherlock Holmes. The outcry was so loud that he soon resurrected the storied sleuth.

If a main character must die, it should further the plot and not be merely for shock value (or publicity). If it provides fodder for subsequent episodes that deal with finding the person's killer, for example, at least they did not die in vain.  The bereaved audience will find solace and satisfaction as justice is sought and served.

At the very least, the impact a character death has on the reading or viewing public must be given appropriate consideration.  They need time to grieve, so let them attend the funeral, hear the recollections of the deceased's friends and family, and basically say goodbye in their own way.

Since there are innumerable ways to bury a protagonist, the pen is indeed mightier than the sword.  If you should find yourself with a good reason to try it in your novel, proceed with caution, but be encouraged by those who've gone before you.  Obviously some writers are making a killing doing it.

All Talk and No Action

 by Gary Fearon, Creative Director, Southern Writers Magazine

Word guy that I am, I like to turn on the subtitles when I watch TV.  Number one, there are too many celebrities who mumble.  Number two, I find it interesting to see how the words on the screen are interpreted by the actors.  And three, it can be funny when a news channel with auto-translation thinks "senior advisor" is "seen your abs eyesore".

There are other times when I will close my eyes and just listen.  Lacking visual cues, I assess how effectively the dialogue alone carries the story.  I am frequently surprised by the lengthy breaks of no dialogue at all, when wordless action takes over, especially during movies.  I'm also surprised by how often I fall asleep while doing this, but I digress.

These scenarios illustrate how dialogue and action depend on each other.  In a book, long pauses like the one above will be covered by narrative, explaining the silent activity taking place or providing exposition.  A novel with an abundance of dialogue benefits from these reprieves from incessant conversation.  Even though the reader is still absorbing a litany of words, they do not register in an audible way.

By the same token, too much narrative without quality exchanges of dialogue gets wearisome.  We like to see dialogue coming because we think communicatively, whether it's conversation with friends or our own endless inner monologue (we see something out of the ordinary and literally think to ourselves, "What's that?").

Deciding what to say via dialogue and what to say via narration becomes easier by remembering this classic saying:

"If you can't say something right, don't say it at all."

Okay, I changed that a bit. But in writing dialogue, it's more important to say something right than to say something nice. 

Dialogue is "wrong" if it's unrealistic.
In normal conversation, people don't talk in long, uninterrupted diatribes.  Jack Nicholson's famous "You can't handle the truth" speech works because the setting is a courtroom interrogation and he's on the stand.  Plus, he's Jack Nicholson.  Most of all, the whole story has been built to lead up to his climactic soliloquy.

Dialogue is especially unnatural when characters give awkward exposition:

"Hi, dear brother!  I haven't seen you since Aunt Betsy's funeral in Minneapolis two years ago this August."

or:

"Did Leonard's family get here yet?"

"Yes, around 3:00," she answered, "with an entourage that included his wife, two noisy, badly-behaved children and several suitcases big enough to tote tubas in."

Instead, let the narration do the heavy lifting:

"Yes, around 3," she answered, "with a couple of spoiled brats."  She recalled the oversized suitcases they had brought in and imagined stuffing the children in them.

Don't load too much exposition on your character's back.  Simply put, if a real person wouldn't say it, neither should your character.

That said . . .

Dialogue is "wrong" if it's TOO realistic.

Between typical people, conversation includes a lot of stuff that would run a reader off:

"Did you take out the trash?"
"Yeah."
"Did you remember to take out the recycles?"
"Yeah."
"Even the stuff I had by the door?"
"Yeah."

or:

"I'll see you tomorrow."
"Okay, what time?"
"I dunno, how about 2:00?"
"Can we make it 2:30?"
"Sure."
"Great. Bye."
"Bye."

Minutia like this is the stuff of life, but not the stuff of story.  Any dialogue that doesn't further the plot doesn't belong.  Readers who are conditioned to a snappy pace don't think twice when a character simply says, "See you tomorrow," and leaves.  But they take note if dialogue lapses into banality.

The most interesting dialogue delivers the unexpected.  Instead of:

"I saw Grace at the supermarket today."
"Yeah?  How is she?"

How about:

"I saw Grace at the supermarket today."
"Grace is in Italy."

Dialogue done right can be as intriguing as your action scenes.  Put well-crafted dialogue in the mouths of your characters, and you'll give your readers something to talk about.

Not Afraid of the Dark

by Gary Fearon, Creative Director, Southern Writers Magazine


If I was to bring up the name of writer J.D. Salinger, most people would think of one of two things:

1. Catcher in the Rye, his first and most well-known novel.

2. John Lennon, whose assassin was reading Catcher in the Rye prior to the shooting.

But if you're a writer, there's a third thing Jerome David deserves to be equally famous for. He gave us one of the great quotes about writing:

"Novels grow in the dark."

Meaning that our mind continues to process for us even after we turn out the lights, figuratively as well as symbolically.  Hemingway was a proponent of shutting off his creative mind when he was done writing for the day, knowing that the empty space will renew itself for the next morning.

On a related note, another great truth comes from Rick Warren, author of The Purpose Driven Life: What on Earth Am I Here For?"

“Every time you try to block a thought out of your mind, you drive it deeper into your memory. By resisting it, you actually reinforce it.”

Fortunately, our subconscious is equally willing to cooperate with us. When we invite our mind to open up to an idea, it accepts the invitation and starts working on its behalf.  How often have you wracked your brain to remember something, only to let it go, and within a few minutes the answer magically appears?
 

I've lost count of the times a brainstorm has come to me when writing was the last thing on my mind.  An almost hypnotic activity like cutting the grass or drifting off to sleep can trigger a revelation about an existing project or an all-new one. Even when we're dreaming, our brain is literally putting ideas in our head.  We may succumb to slumber, but our synapses never nap.

As a bonus, our conscious mind tends to be a critic, while our subconscious is not.  Letting go and letting the muse take over is where the magic often happens.  I know I do my best thinking when I'm not there.

Like J.D. suggests, we needn't be afraid of the dark. Sometimes that's the best place to detect a glimmer.

A Different Point of View

by Gary Fearon, Creative Director, Southern Writers Magazine


I can't say I've read any of the books, but I have it on good authority that Fifty Shades of Grey now has a counterpart series, telling the same story from the guy's point of view.  Beginning with Grey, released in June, author E.L. James is getting new mileage from her popular trilogy by sharing more shades of grey.

Twilight is also enjoying a reincarnation by its original author, Stephenie Meyer.  In a reversal of genders, this time the male vampire Edward will be a female vampire named Edythe, and Bella will be a young male named Beau.  One can only assume the love triangle will involve a wolfgirl.

Veronica Roth gave fans of Divergent new insight into its male co-star when she released Four, a collection of five short stories from character Four's POV.  Roth reveals that she had originally written Divergent from Four's perspective and that its female heroine came into being only after the first draft.

A fair amount of such retreads can be found in fan fiction, but the trend to turn the tables has been going on for some time.  Wicked, a retelling of the Oz saga turning the wicked witch into a sympathetic character, was the frontrunner in only the current crop of reimaginings. 

Back to the Future dabbled with multiple POVs in its sequels, when we got to see bad guy Biff's reactions and interactions with events we had seen in the first film. Marty himself encountered his own pasts and futures with new eyes as he traveled through time.

From Peter Rabbit to The Three Little Pigs, kiddie tales have long lived happily ever after through rewrites that let the villain tell their side of the story.

But fantasies and fairy tales aren't the only stories able to benefit from a shift in perspective. We can use this principle as a way to elaborate on the conflict between two characters with opposing viewpoints. Or a close examination of our story may reveal that the strongest POV belongs to a character other than the protagonist.

Since the beginning of publishing, the classic stories have been rewritten again and again, thanks to new sets of characters in new settings that differentiate things enough to make it all seem brand new again. Perhaps one of your own published books will be suited to a reimagining.

The points of view we choose to convey can enliven things by telling more than one side of the story. Abraham Lincoln said, “We can complain because rose bushes have thorns, or rejoice because thorn bushes have roses.” A difference of opinion makes things interesting, and we can all agree on that.

Epilogue, the Underdog

by Gary Fearon, Creative Director, Southern Writers Magazine

While watching the new James Bond movie this weekend, I was reminded of a storytelling trick that is used repeatedly, especially in action movies. After the climactic face-to-face battle between the hero and the antagonist comes to a close, the dust settles on a lingering distant shot, the music resolves, and the screen fades to black.  You know from experience that there's one more scene to come.  But the black lasts longer than you would expect . . . long enough to make you wonder if indeed it is the end and the credits are about to roll. 

When the closing scene did eventually rise up, I thought, "Ah, you got me again."  But, as always, I was glad to see it.

Whether we're kept in suspense waiting for it or not, the epilogue is reassuring in its familiarity, and a chance to give the audience time to recover from a big finish before they jump out of their seats and head to the car.  More importantly, from a storytelling standpoint, it's their chance to assess what they've just experienced and learn what it means to the characters and the world they live in.

Getting fancy, the epilogue is known in some circles as the denouement, meaning "the final resolution of the intricacies of a plot."  It's all about cause and effect. When something happens, we are inherently curious to know the result.

The epilogue is exactly where you'll see the other end of the character arc our hero's been through. With that in mind, you're doing yourself a favor if you anticipate what an ideal epilogue for your story would be, and put the means in place as you write everything that precedes.

Some authors dismiss the epilogue as being too cliché.  However, bringing a story to an abrupt ending without providing the aftermath is like taking the reader on a journey and not giving them a ride back.

So really, the big finish isn't really the finish at all.  That final confrontation is only a momentary thrill. The real takeaway is what it means once it has taken place.

As Dune author Frank Herbert said, “There is no real ending. It’s just the place where you stop the story.” Providing a closer that leaves readers with a satisfying sense of the aftermath is the secret to making ends meet.

There Oughta Be a Flaw

by Gary Fearon, Creative Director, Southern Writers Magazine

In virtually every story we write, it's a given that we will give our hero challenges to face.  Those obstacles we put in his/her path are likely to be external in nature, delivered by either circumstances or an antagonist.  But we can increase the drama further by slipping in some internal struggles for our hero too.

Besides making our protagonist more lifelike, a character flaw has the power to add the fascinating element of irony.  A hero who becomes the guardian of his brother's kids will have a worse time of it if he had vowed never to have children.  An eyewitness in a murder trial will find it harder to testify if he was somewhere he wasn't supposed to be.

The "inner demon" doesn't have to be anything illegal, immoral, or fattening.  It can be a guilty conscience, a moral dilemma, the fight between the angel on one shoulder and the devil on the other.  Anything that creates personal turmoil is material for mayhem.

It can feel against the grain to make our hero imperfect, especially if we write in first person, because our own voice is inherently caught up in there on some conscious or unconscious level.  If it helps distance you from your character, seek out a trait you don't possess.  Need some ideas?  The Seven Deadly Sins could be a source of inspiration.  If you can remember all seven and don't have to look them up, more power to you.  I can usually only remember the ones I've gotten good at.

If you're totally uncomfortable giving your beloved hero a flaw, consider a vulnerability instead.  What's the difference?  One would consider chronic grouchiness a flaw, whereas a fear of heights is a vulnerability.  Simply put, a flaw is something we can change; a vulnerability is something we can't.  It's not Indiana Jones' fault that he's afraid of snakes.  (Although I suppose he could get therapy for that.)

Depending on what you're going for, a vulnerability can elicit sympathy more than a flaw.  By the same token, a flaw is something you can work into your character arc.

The most unflawed character in all of fiction would probably have to be Superman.  Here's a guy who possesses superhuman powers and uses them for the public good.  Yet he is vulnerable to kryptonite, much less the designs of a femme fatale who steals his invincible heart.  If Superman didn't possess qualities that could weaken him, he would be as plastic as the toys made in his image.

Whether our protagonist is a "hero" in the truest sense of the word, or an underdog who must rise from the ashes, we give our story layers by including an Achilles heel above and beyond the main conflict.  The reader may not have personal experience with a tsunami or a kidnapping, but everyone knows what it's like to be human.

The Spice of Life

by Gary Fearon, Creative Director, Southern Writers Magazine


This weekend, a friend shared his childhood memories of the "family movie night" that was a weekly ritual in his home.  Each member of the family got to take turns picking the flick of the week at Blockbuster.  As you can predict, the kids always picked out movies geared toward children, while the adults chose more sufferable fare.

For every Ninja Turtles movie they watched, my friend's dad had them sit down to a classic like On the Waterfront. Or A Streetcar Named Desire. One week it was even Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. (Don't worry, grade school exposure to these mature themes didn't scar the young boy for life; in fact, he went on to become a youth pastor).

It harkened me back to thoughts of my youth, which included a lavish movie house with a balcony, curtains that opened and closed, and where you could buy expensive souvenir programs for the epics being shown. I think even more than the movies themselves, my parents enjoyed introducing their children to edifying entertainment.  So I too grew up on a well-balanced diet of comedies, dramas, romances, musicals, as well a couple of movies my parents made us walk out on.

Looking back, I'm especially grateful for this early education, which gives me a pretty good understanding today of the elements that go into a comedy, a drama, a romance, a musical, not to mention movies my parents would still walk out on. And no doubt you can say the same. While we may have a favorite genre of movie—let's say spy thriller—that doesn't keep us from attending the occasional romantic comedy that catches our interest.

Which brings me to this question: Do you read more than one genre?

Variety is a good thing, for storytelling and for painting

Do you always read the same genre, or do you mix that up too? Granted, committing to an entire novel requires a greater time investment than a two-hour movie (unless you're Susan Reichert, who can read a book a night).

Just as we moviegoers have cut our storytelling teeth by watching a variety of film genres, veering from our usual reading course and picking up an author who writes the kind of tale we're unfamiliar with could introduce us to other ways of telling a story. The intricacies specific to another genre could be eye-opening.  They could help add a new dimension to the genre we normally write in.

Pulitzer Prize-winning columnist Mary Schmich said, "Good art is art that allows you to enter it from a variety of angles and to emerge with a variety of views."  I look forward to adding a little more variety to my library, and I hope new ideas will emerge for you too.

For now, I can't let a mention of Mary Schmich go by without sharing one of her greatest achievements, a laundry list of advice that director Baz Luhrmann turned into a music video.  It could change your life.  I at least guarantee it will change the next five minutes of your life.

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sTJ7AzBIJoI