Book Beginnings: Where to Start?

Photo credit: Mine

I’ve been doing a lot of editing and critiquing lately. Between working on my WIP, reading for CPs and being semi completely addicted to Write on Con’s critique boards, I’m not exaggerating when I say I’ve spent several days switching between several forms of critiquing and editing. 

I’m not complaining—I love it. But because of that, I’ve read a fair share of opening scenes lately that reminded me of the importance of starting your novel in the right place. 

Deciding where to start your book can be a difficult task. Oftentimes, new writers especially will fall into the trap of starting their novels too early, dumping a load of backstory at the beginning before the action starts. While this can be useful for first drafts to help the writer understand more about the story, when it comes to revised drafts for the readers, it’s often necessary to cut the backstory and weave it throughout the prose. 

The key to starting your novel in the right place is to start the first scene right at the cusp of where the story begins. 

That may sound obvious, but it actually requires you to think about where your story starts. Usually, and most effectively, this is right before the inciting incident—that is, the event that changes the course of your protagonist’s life. 

Let’s take a look at a few published novels and analyze where their respective authors began their stories: 

Shadow and Bone by Leigh Bardugo: 

Inciting Incident: When Alina’s convoy is attacked in The Fold, she unwittingly awakens a dormant power that she never knew she had.  

Where the story starts: Alina and the convoy are about to enter The Fold. 

The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins: 

Inciting Incident: Katniss’s sister is chosen during The Reaping to enter The Hunger Games, so Katniss takes her place to save her life.  

Where the story starts: Her last hunting expedition just before The Reaping. 

The Fault in Our Stars by John Green: 

Inciting Incident: Hazel meets Augustus Waters, the boy who turns her life upside down (in a good way).  

Where the story starts: At the Cancer Support Group, just before Hazel meets Augustus. 

I think the pattern here is pretty clear. 

Identifying the right place to start your novel is easier than you might think—once you’ve established your inciting incident, all you need to determine is where to start that gives your readers just enough information about your character and their surroundings to care when the incident arrives. 

Because just at the moment when your readers begin to connect to your characters is when you want to throw your characters into the event that will change everything for them. 

How do you determine where to start your story? 

Twitter-sized bites: 

Does your novel start in the right place? Writer @Ava_Jae discusses how to determine a good place to begin. (Click to tweet) 

The right book beginning is key to hooking your readers. Did you start your novel in the right place? (Click to tweet)

Character Development: What Do They Want?

Photo credit: sahlgoode on Flickr

One of the most important questions you can ask yourself while plotting out your novel comes down to the title of this post—what do your characters want?

In novels, your character’s desire will drive the rest of the story. There’s a reason you don’t see genuinely apathetic characters as protagonists for many novels—they’re boring to read about and difficult (if not impossible) to plot an interesting story around. When it comes to writing a novel, your characters must want something in order to keep your readers interested and keep the plot moving forward.

Depending on your novel, your characters wants may evolve throughout the course of the story, or remain static (until they get what they want). Let’s take a look at an example of each:

• The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien—After the initial catalyzing incident, Frodo wants as little to do with the ring as possible. He agrees to bring the ring to a place of safety out of necessity, but when they arrive in Rivendell and Frodo gets the opportunity to return home, he admits he’s ready to return to the Shire. It isn’t until the secret council meeting that Frodo sees just how dire the situation is and develops a new want that carries the rest of the trilogy: to see the ring destroyed. 


• The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins—Right from the beginning we learn that Katniss’ top priority is to take care of her family. She breaks the law and hunts because it’s the main source of income and food that her family has, and without it they would starve. Her desire to take care of her family doesn’t change after the Reaping, either—she volunteers to protect her baby sister and her main motivation to survive the games is so that she can keep her promise to Prim. 

Determining what your characters want isn’t just a matter of importance to the plot—it is, in fact, a huge part of character development, as your character’s wants will largely determine their actions throughout the course of the novel. Furthermore, it’s important to know more than just your protagonist’s desires—what your antagonist and side characters want is just as important and potentially just as significant to the plot as your protagonist’s desires.

Taking a look at The Lord of the Rings again, Samwise Gamgee doesn’t join the Fellowship of the Ring for the adventure—far from it, as he has a strong desire to return home to the Shire as soon as possible. More important to him, however, is to protect Frodo like he swore to Gandalf that he would, and so he goes to great plot-altering lengths to make sure that he fulfills that promise.

Taking a moment to identify what your characters want can really help you to identify how they will act throughout the course of your novel—and it may even inspire some new plot ideas that you wouldn’t have otherwise considered. If you haven’t already, I definitely recommend it.

When do you take your characters’ desires into account? Has brainstorming their wants ever inspired new plot ideas? Share your experiences in the comments below!

How to Kill Characters With Impact

"You are writing children's books. You need to be a ruthless killer." —J.K. Rowling (via this fabulous interview on BBC) 

Photo credit: bionicteaching on Flickr

A somewhat morbid topic, today.

Depending on the genre, it's not uncommon for writers to begin a novel knowing that not all characters will survive to see the final pages. Writing an effective character death, however, is more than just describing how they meet their unfortunate end—you have to make the readers care. But how?

Let's take a look at some examples:

SPOILER WARNING: If you haven't read any of the below books (or seen their movies, for that matter), please skip over their examples, unless you'd like to see some major plot spoilers.

• The Hunger Games (Suzanne Collins): Yes, I know I use this example a lot, but it was particularly fitting for this post. Needless to say, a lot of characters die over the course of The Hunger Games trilogy, and some character deaths left more impact than others. The first few unnamed tributes who die around the cornucopia at the very beginning of the hunger games have forgettable deaths—Katniss doesn't even know their names, and as horrible as it sounds, when they die the readers don't particularly care. This is the case for many of the less important tributes that Katniss isn't emotionally connected with.
  
  But then Rue passes away, and everything changes. Rue's death matters to Katniss, and so it matters to us. She's more than just another tribute—Katniss had taken a protective role over her, so when Rue dies, Katniss is devastated, and it certainly does not go forgotten amongst the readers.


• The Fellowship of the Ring (J.R.R. Tolkien): Like The Hunger Games, to say that a lot of characters die throughout the course of the Lord of the Rings trilogy is a bit of an understatement. In books like these with a lot of character deaths, it is especially important to make certain deaths matter. Near the end of The Fellowship of the Ring when Gandalf is pulled into the abyss of the cavern (and thus, supposedly dies), he leaves the fellowship deeply impacted by his absence. Gandalf was the wisest and in many ways strongest of the fellowship, so when he is lost, the fellowship loses a great deal of hope with him. His death matters.


• Harry Potter (J.K. Rowling): There were quite a few powerful character deaths throughout the course of the Harry Potter series, but the one that affected me the most was that of Sirius Black. Sirius was by no means a perfect godfather to Harry, but he represented hope for change and a better life for Harry. For the first time, Harry had the opportunity to live away from the Dursleys, to live with a wizard who understood him, cared for him and actually valued him. Even more so—Sirius was a link to the parents that Harry never knew.
  
  So when he died, readers were stunned. Harry was entirely ripped apart by Sirius' death, and even J.K. Rowling admitted that she cried after writing it. Why? Because his death left great emotional impact—it mattered. 

I think the pattern here is clear—reader cared about these various character deaths because their deaths left an impact. These weren't arbitrary characters— they were important to the protagonists of their respective novels, and thus important to the readers.

The key to making your readers care about a character death is a) to choose characters who have connected with the readers and b) make those deaths mean something—not just to the plot, but to the surviving characters.

If it matters to the protagonist, chances are it's going to matter to the readers. Allow your character deaths to leave a large impact and your readers will remember it.

What do you think goes into an effective character death? Any tips for writing the end of a character?

How to Choose a POV Character

Photo credit: davidz on Flickr

There are many factors to consider and questions to answer when you decide to write a book. What genre and age group do you want to write in? Should you write in first person or third? Past or present tense? Will you do any plotting beforehand or pants the whole thing entirely?

One of the earliest questions you must answer, however, before you even write a single word of your soon-to-be Work In Progress (or WIP, for those of you wondering) is which character will be your point of view (POV) character?

Choosing a POV character is arguably the most important part of novel-planning for limited third or first person POV stories, because it affects absolutely everything in the story—from voice, to plot points, to how (and what) information will be revealed to your readers. The POV character that you choose will affect every word in your story, because the story will be filtered through his or her lens.

But while sometimes the POV character is obvious right from the start, choosing a POV character is not always so cut and dry. In those instances when you’re not entirely sure whose POV you should write from, there are two major questions you must ask yourself:

• Which character has the most at stake? This is the most important question—which character has the most to lose? Readers don’t want to hear from a character who has nothing to lose—that character won’t be emotionally invested in the story and so neither will your readers be. The character who will take the biggest risks, who will suffer if he doesn’t succeed, who is so emotionally invested and entangled in the story that he couldn’t remove himself from it even if he wanted to—that’s the character you want narrating your story.
  
  Once you’ve determined which character has the most at stake and will be most affected by the plot, you can then move on to the second question.


• Am I invested enough in this character to stay in his/her head for 300+ pages? This is important because sometimes, especially in the early plotting of our story, we don’t know enough about our characters to really determine how interested we are in them. Before you start writing, however, it is vital that you make your character interesting enough to you that you look forward to spending the next many months living inside of his head—because when you’re writing, especially in a close POV, that’s exactly what you’re doing. If you’re not interested enough in your character to do so, you can pretty much guarantee your readers won’t be very interested either, assuming you even finish the story.

Let’s test two examples:

• Harry Potter (J.K. Rowling)—The Harry Potter series has an enormous cast of characters, but the obvious choice for POV character would be one of the main three characters—Harry, Ron and Hermione. Out of the three, Harry definitely has the most at stake—the most evil wizard of all time tried to kill him when he was an infant and left him an orphan, and now that he’s older, that same evil wizard is returning and he hasn’t forgotten about little Harry Potter. The interest bit (very slight spoiler), as we learn later on, is if Voldemort had interpreted the prophecy that led him to attack Harry when he was a baby differently, he may have tried to kill Neville Longbottom instead, and the first story would likely have been Neville Longbottom and the Sorcerer’s (or Philosopher’s) Stone, instead.


• The Hunger Games (Suzanne Collins)—It could be argued that anyone chosen in the Reaping has pretty near equal stakes—there can only be one winner of the Hunger Games, so every tribute has their life on the line. Why then, did Suzanne Collins choose Katniss as a POV over Peeta or any of the other tributes? I’m sure there were many reasons, but the two that stand out to me the most are these: Katniss has a little more at stake than Peeta, in that Peeta knows his family will survive without him if he doesn’t win the Hunger Games, while Katniss isn’t so sure and (IMO) Katniss is a more interesting character than Peeta.
  
  That’s not to say that Peeta is boring—but he’s good with the crowd, he’s level-headed and consistent, while Katniss is terrible at public relations (a big deal for Hunger Games tributes), has a relatively short fuse, doesn’t trust anyone and is incredibly stubborn. All of these factors give her more trouble during the games, and put the readers on an emotional rollercoaster throughout the plot.

Choosing a POV character isn’t a process that should be taken lightly, but once you’ve chosen the right character to carry your story, the rest will fall into place.

How do you choose a POV character? Have you ever switched your POV character after you started writing? Share your experience in the comments below—I’d love to hear from you.

Short Story or Novel Idea: How Do You Tell?

Photo credit: tosaytheleast in Flickr

Every so often one of you amazing readers will suggest a blog post topic I haven’t covered yet (which is fantastic, by the way) and I’ll ramble on about how awesome you guys are for being such interactive and invested readers and then get to the point of the post. 

As you might have guessed, this is one of those posts.

This time, however, I’d like to hear from you guys. Because while I have some ideas on the topic, I don’t really write all that many short stories, and truth be told, it’s been a couple of years since I’ve written one (which, come to think of it, should be remedied), but I suspect some of you lovely readers are more recently acquainted with the short story writing experience. So. Here we go.

The proposed question, as many of you astute readers probably inferred from the title, was how to tell the difference between an idea better suited for a short story than a novel.

I find this question to be particularly interesting because it’s been a long while since I’ve really even allowed myself to consider whether or not an idea would be appropriate for a short story—to me, it’s been more of a question of whether or not I could write an entire novel based on whatever premise rose from the depths of my mind, and those that failed the idea worthiness test of time were labeled unworthy and discarded and ignored. I kind of imagine Odin’s booming voice as he screams, “YOU ARE NOT WORTHY,” at Thor, but that’s beside the point. 

Getting back to the question, though, once you’ve determined whether your idea is worth writing about at all (again, the test of time is a good indicator), a large part of the difference between short story ideas and novel ideas is the scope. 

You see, novel ideas have to be big—and I don’t mean that they have to have explosions and ridiculously awesome action scenes—I just mean that while you’re working with your new idea, you have to be able to develop enough nuances, subplots and layers to sustain 80,000 (or however many) words. And sometimes, especially if you’re a pantser, it’s a little hard to tell if your idea is going to survive three hundred-some-odd pages or if you’re going to hit page fifteen and say, “You know what? Maybe this idea isn’t worth a novel after all.” But the first step in answering the question of whether or not your idea is enough to sustain a novel, lies, I believe, in determining the scope of your idea.

Let’s take a look at an example.

The Hunger Games is big. There’s no way Suzanne Collins would have been able to as effectively fit all the setup, relationships, celebrity status of the tributes, horror of the games, rebellion against the Capitol and repercussions thereof in fifteen pages (and I don’t mean written in summary-like synopsis form, I mean written as an actual story).

However, way before The Hunger Games was the short story The Lottery written by Shirley Jackson in 1948, which certainly has many similarities to the beginning of The Hunger Games (you can read it for free online, if you’re interested). The difference between the two? You guessed it—the scope of the idea.

While The Hunger Games included various subplots (i.e.: the Katniss-Peeta-Gale love triangle, among others) as well as an in-depth look at the glamorization of the hunger games in the Capitol that only made the brutality of the games (in my opinion) that much more powerful in its effect on the reader, The Lottery included set-up, foreshadowing, some characterization and, erm, the results of the lottery (you’ll have to read it if you haven’t already to know what I mean). The former was way too big to be shoved into a short story format, while the latter fit very comfortable in a little over 3000 words.

So, in short, the main difference to me between a short story and novel idea lies in the scope of the idea. If you think you can fit it in fifteen pages, then it’s probably not worth dragging out into three hundred; but on the other hand if you think it might be difficult to condense into a shorter story without losing anything, you might want to consider writing a novel (or at least a novella) instead. 

Those are my thoughts, but how do you tell between a short story and novel idea? Have you ever had a short story turn into a novel, or a novel idea become a short story, instead? 

What Makes a Great Final Sentence?

"Your first chapter sells your book. Your last chapter sells your next book."—Mickey Spillane (from Plot & Structure by James Scott Bell).

Photo credit: lynn.gardner on Flickr

I wrote a post a while back about what makes a great first sentence, but it occurred to me that I never followed it up with an equally important discussion on the second most important sentence in your novel—the final sentence.

I think what Mr. Spillane said about the first and last chapter of a book applies to the first and last sentence—while the first sentence is largely responsible for hooking the reader, the last sentence must resonate with your readers, or else you risk losing them to an unsatisfying ending. That's not to say that a terrible ending can be completely saved by a stellar last sentence, but the final sentence is like the final note in a composition—it should echo and leave the reader with a certain tone. If done correctly, the final sentence provides closure and often mirrors the beginning, creating a full circle.

But of course we can't talk about final sentences without examples, so I've provided some sentences that I thought were especially effective. The sentence(s) in brackets are the ones that come before the final sentence that I included to provide a little context:

"[I am no longer Tris, the selfless, or Tris, the brave.] I suppose that now, I must become more than either." –Divergent by Veronica Roth

"[It's like a game. Repetitive. Even a little tedious after more than twenty years.] But there are much worse games to play." –Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins

"[The scar had not pained Harry for nineteen years.] All was well." –Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by J.K. Rowling

What I love about these examples is the way they echo overarching themes that repeated themselves throughout the book or series. For those who haven't read it, much of Divergent was about Tris (the protagonist) trying to choose her identity between two factions: the Abnegation girl her family raised her as, which values selflessness, versus the Dauntless girl she had chosen to be, which valued courage. Her acknowledgment that she must become more than either both confirms one of the great revelations of the novel (without spoiling anything—that Tris is different from most) and points to the future books where we know she will have to be strong to survive.

In two of the three examples I purposely included the final sentence of a series because they so effectively wrapped up not just their respective novels, but the series.

In the case of Mockingjay we all know what games Katniss is referring to when she says, "there are much worse games to play" and it leaves the reader nodding in agreement while thinking back to the events of all three books.

In the Harry Potter example, the throbbing of Harry's scar was a foreboding sign throughout the series that became more and more frequent throughout the course of seven books as Voldemort became more powerful. To say that Harry's scar hadn't hurt him for nineteen years really confirms the final sentence that all is (finally) well.

So in short, a great final sentence does two of three things:

1. Reflects elements from the novel/series.
2. Wraps up both the book and series OR wraps up the book while leading into the sequel.

Once your final sentence accomplishes both of those things, you know you have a great final note on your hands.

Now it's your turn: What else do you think a final sentence should do? What are your favorite final sentences and what made them so memorable?

What Makes a Great First Sentence?

“When it comes to selling your book, the most important words you’ll ever write are those on page one.” –Jodie Rhodes, President, Jodie Rhodes Literary Agency (from Hooked by Les Edgerton).

Photo credit: soyrosa on Flickr

Most readers and writers alike can agree that the first page—and even more so, the first line—of a book carries a very heavy responsibility. I’d even go as far to say that the first line in your book is the most important sentence in the entirety of your WIP. Why?

The first line determines if the reader will go on to the second (then third and fourth, etc.) line (obvious, I know, but important).

The first line is the very first impression readers (and agents, and editors) have of your manuscript.

The first line carries the responsibility of hooking your readers into the story, or else they likely won’t move on. (No pressure).

Most of us can agree that the importance of the first sentence is undeniable. But what makes a good first sentence?

Hooked by Les Edgerton focuses on, as the title suggests, hooking your readers with your first scene and naturally, your first sentence (it’s a good read for those of you who’d like a really in-depth look at the topic beyond the little bit that I talk about here, but I digress). My favorite point in the book however, came with his theory on the two things that should belong in first sentences.

According to Edgerton, every first sentence should hint at trouble and raise a question. Taking a look at some great (in my opinion) opening lines, I have to agree with him. Let’s take a look:

“When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold.”—The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins

I’ve seen this line used time and time again as an example of a great first line and I don’t know about you guys, but I think it’s brilliant. It also holds up to Edgerton’s theory—although the trouble isn’t stated directly (it rarely is in first lines), there is certainly a sense of foreboding as our main character wakes to a cold, empty bed. The question of course is obvious—why is the other side of the bed cold? Who was she (Katniss, the protagonist) expecting to be there?

“I’ve been locked up for 264 days.”—Shatter Me by Tahereh Mafi

The trouble and questions are pretty clear here—the trouble is clearly that our protagonist (Juliette) has been locked up for nearly a year. We don’t know where exactly, but by the term “locked up” we can assume it’s some kind of prison. The question of course is why? Why lock someone up for that long? What did she do to deserve imprisonment? You must read to find out.

“I see darkness.”—Saint by Ted Dekker

Trouble? Well, waking to darkness isn’t often a good thing and although we know little about the protagonist’s situation from this first sentence, we most certainly have a sense that something bad is about to happen—or perhaps something bad already has. Either way, we want to know why our main character only sees darkness (the question), so we have to read on to find out.

“There is one mirror in my house.”—Divergent by Veronica Roth

The trouble here is a little more subtle than in the last two examples. We don’t know for sure from the first sentence that anything bad is going to happen, but just the fact that we have to ask why our main character only has one mirror in her house (and why, as we quickly find out, the mirror is hidden) gives us a sense that something isn’t quite right.

“Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.” –Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone by J.K. Rowling

How could I go through this kind of post without including Harry Potter? Obviously, I couldn’t.

In all seriousness, this is the kind of sentence that uses a sort of reverse-psychology. Just the fact that Mr. and Mrs. Dursley feel the need to say that they’re perfectly normal indicates that they probably aren’t (which foreshadows trouble) and also leads the reader to ask why they feel it’s important everyone know that they’re normal. Do people think they’re strange? If so, why? We must read on to find the answer.

A sense of foreboding and raising questions can go a long way to grab your readers’ attention right from the first line—are you using this technique in your writing?

What are your favorite first lines? Do they create a sense a trouble and raise questions? I’d love to hear them! 

Dystopia: The New Vampire?

With the last Twilight movies on the horizon and mounting hype over upcoming movies like The Hunger Games and Divergent, many are left wondering if dystopia is the new vampire.

For those of you who don’t know, here’s a quick definition of dystopia from dictionary.com:

dys·to·pi·a

   [dis-toh-pee-uh] 

–noun

a society characterized by human misery, as squalor, oppression,disease, and overcrowding.

— n
	an imaginary place where everything is as bad as it can be
[C19 (coined by John Stuart Mill ): from dys-  + Utopia ]

In summary, it’s the opposite of utopia. And its increasing popularity is more than evident on the shelves.

So in the sense that vampires are slowly going out of fashion and dystopia is building quite the fan base, I’d say that yes dystopia is the new vampire. However. HOWEVER. There is an enormous difference between the two genres that I think will set dystopia apart from the vampire craze that flooded bookstores not that long ago.

Before I go on, I want to say first and foremost that I’m not dissing any vampire novels. They had (and some still do) a huge following and it appealed to a large base of particularly excitable pre-teens and teenagers who snatched up more than a few of them. They were entertaining and people liked them, which is why they became popular in the first place.

So I give Twilight and the rest of the vampire books out there a lot of credit. They caught onto something that really resonated with people.

The only bone I have to pick with vampire novels is that a lot of them are the same. I’m not saying they all have the same plot (that would be an unfair generalization) but the vast majority of vampire books I glanced at in the bookstores went something like this: girl meets boy. Boy (sometimes girl) is a vampire. Boy loves girl but is afraid to hurt her. Girl thinks boy is mysterious and doesn’t care about the danger. TENSION.

Entertaining? Absolutely. But I got a little tired of it pretty quickly.

And that’s where dystopian is different. Whereas there was only so much you could do with a vampire story, a large range of dystopian novels are emerging. What makes dystopian different is that each story has a different society. Every novel has new challenges and new obstacles to overcome. Are there similarities? Of course, but there’s potential for a lot of variety.

For example: The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins (c’mon, I couldn’t write a post about dystopian novels without mentioning The Hunger Games at least twice). Basic plot involves a competition in which two teenagers from each of the twelve districts are forced to enter every year. The competition? Survival of the fittest. Last one still alive wins.

Now compare this to Wither by Lauren DeStefano. There aren’t any competitions here, initiations or factions. Wither’s focus is on something entirely different: genetic engineering gone wrong. In this dystopian novel, scientists accidently triggered a time bomb in every human so that women only live to the age of twenty and men twenty-five. As a result, girls are married off in the early teen years and forced to bear children in order to keep humanity alive.

I don’t need to go on to explicate the difference between Wither and The Hunger Games.

So what’s the point Ava? They’re different, so what?

In my opinion the end of the vampire age is coming because people got bored. The stories became repetitive and readers wanted something different. I think the vampire craze is coming to a close not because of a lack of talent or anything like that, but a lack of variety.

Dystopian is different. There can be huge variations and still fit within the realm of dystopia. Of course there will be repetition, but I think there's much more potential for variety than the vampire craze was ever able to offer.

And that will give it the momentum it needs to carry forward.

What do you think? Is dystopia just another passing craze? Will variety make a difference?