Why Mega-Successful Authors are Good News for Everyone

Photo credit: Beacon Radio on Flickr

So there’s this post floating around from the Huffington Post that activated some massive internal raging. 

I’m not going to link to it, because I don’t want to give it extra free traffic, but if you’re so inclined, it’s pretty easy to find on Twitter, as it involves telling J.K. Rowling to stop writing adult books because she’s hogging up all the success—but it’s ok for her to write kid lit because those books aren’t as good anyway. Yep. 

As much as I'd like to rage about why kidlit is just as important as adult literature, I know I'm preaching to the choir here, so I'm going to focus on something equally important (and a little less screamy).

The thing that some people, particularly people outside of the publishing industry tend to forget, is that there’s room for everyone to be successful. In fact, one author’s mega-success is actually good for everyone else.

Think about it.

Let’s take J.K. Rowling, for example. The Harry Potter series was one of the first major crossover kid lit titles that blew the door wide open for other kid lit successes. Why? Well let’s take a look.

Harry Potter, as we all know, sold incredibly well. Incredibly x a million. Hugely successful books means more money for publishers—who then have more cash to buy more books from writers and give more debuts a chance, more money for bookstores—who then run less of a risk of crashing and burning like Borders, and more money for the authors—who, quite frankly, deserve their success. But it’s not just the money—hugely successful books are the direct result of more people reading. 

Why is more people reading a good thing, you ask? I can’t even tell you how many people I’ve heard say “I didn’t like reading but I loved [insert popular book title here].” Successful books show people who didn’t think they liked to read that reading can actually be great. Successful books get more people buying books, and guess what? Many times when they finish reading said successful book, they look for another book. Because maybe reading isn’t so bad after all and they’ll like the next book just as much as that successful book they just read.

Time and time again, successful books have proven that they help so much more than the author.

The Twilight series brought the spotlight down on YA lit.

The Hunger Games series opened the door to a variety of fantastic dystopian novels, like say, a little series called Divergent.

The 50 Shades of Grey series gave a huge boost to erotica sales.

All of these books created new readers—people who didn’t really read much before because they thought they wouldn’t like it and changed their minds after reading that successful book. And that’s good for everyone, because more readers = more book sales, and more book sales = good news for writers.

See, this one huge aspect of the publishing world that I love—we can genuinely be happy for each other’s successes, even (and especially) crazy-massive successes, because it’s good news for everyone. Books are not a market like cars or laptops or iPads where the customer will only buy one for several years. The success of one book opens the door for the successes of many others, and to me, that’s one of the many things that makes this community so incredibly wonderful.

So let’s cut the jealousy and the bitterness and just be happy and supportive for one another, okay? There’s no need for negativity in this incredible community that I will always love.

What do you think? 

Twitter-sized bites: 

Writer @Ava_Jae breaks down why mega-successes like J.K. Rowling & E.L. James are good for the publishing community. (Click to tweet)  

.@Ava_Jae says “…there’s room for everyone to be successful [in the publishing industry].” What do you think? (Click to tweet) 

On Clichés and Writing

Photo credit: Tom Newby Photography

Oh, clichés. We writers hear about them all the time—how to avoid them and how to recognize them and exorcise them from our work to avoid the dreaded words of this is a cliché.

But lately I’ve been thinking about plot-related clichés and how, while we’re advised to avoid them whenever possible, they sometimes work.

The Hunger Games, The Coldest Girl in Coldtown and Every Day all start with their protagonists waking up. And each of them make it interesting and necessary and twist the cliché in a way that works.

Divergent the opens with a cliché writers are often told to avoid: characters describing themselves while looking in a mirror. And yet Roth did it and got away with it why? Because she made it work.

Now does that mean as writers that we shouldn’t bother trying to avoid clichés? Not so much. As many of Amy Trueblood’s first five pages interviews with agents have shown, clichés in openings in particular are often an instant turn-off for agents who see them way overused. But on the other hand, I don’t think the use of a cliché means the immediate death of your manuscript either…as long as it’s handled well.

Let’s take a look at the opening clichés in the published books I mentioned above.

The Hunger Games (Suzanne Collins) starts like this:

“When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold. My fingers stretch out, seeking Prim`s warmth but finding only the rough canvas cover of the mattress. She must have had bad dreams and climbed in with our mother. Of course, she did. This is the day of the Reaping.”

Why does this work? Because this isn’t a typical character waking up and brushing their teeth like every other day morning. This opening is laced with foreshadowing and a sense of foreboding, and right off the bat readers are left with questions.

Now The Coldest Girl in Coldtown (Holly Black):

“Tana woke lying in a bathtub. Her legs were drawn up, her cheek pressed against the cold metal of the faucet. A slow drip had soaked the fabric on her shoulder and wetted locks of her hair. The rest of her, including her clothes, was still completely dry, which was kind of a relief. Her neck felt stiff; her shoulders ached…”

Why does this work? Because Tana woke in a bathtub for crying out loud. We know (or at least, sincerely hope) this isn’t normal and as she begins to take in her surrounds, we get the sense more and more that something is off.

Now Every Day (David Levithan):

“I wake up. 

Immediately I have to figure out who I am. It’s not just the body—opening my eyes and discovering whether the skin on my arm is light or dark, whether my hair is long or short, whether I’m fat or thin, boy or girl, scarred or smooth.The body is the easiest thing to adjust to, if you’re used to waking up in a new one each morning…” 

I think it’s pretty obvious why this works so well, namely, our protagonist immediately tells us he wakes up on a new body every day. That this is normal for him, which to me, is insanely intriguing.

Finally, Divergent (Veronica Roth):

“There is one mirror in my house. It is behind a sliding panel in the hallway upstairs. Our faction allows me to stand in front of it on the second day of every third month, the day my mother cuts my hair.” 

Why does this work? Because when she looks at her reflection, she has to sneak a look, because it’s not allowed. Tris has rarely ever seen her reflection up to that point, and is only permitted to sit in front of a (hidden) mirror once every three months.

These are just a couple examples, but the point is this: while clichés are generally best to be avoided, if you’re creative with them and make them unique to your manuscript in one way or another, they can still work.

What do you think? Have you ever tried to make a cliché work in a manuscript of yours? 

Twitter-sized bites: 

Are clichés a death sentence to your MS? Here's why writer @Ava_Jae says not necessarily. (Click to tweet) 

"While clichés are generally best to be avoided...they can still work." (Click to tweet)

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)

Pitch Tip: Remember Your Stakes

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When discussing pitches, queries or back-cover copies, writers often see the word “stakes” thrown around. Oftentimes it’s a comment about the stakes not being high enough or clear enough, and truth be told, it’s easier than you’d think to fail to mention the stakes in a pitch.

Before I go into why that is, let’s take a quick look at dictionary.com's definition of stakes:

A little hard to read, unfortunately. It says: "at stake, in danger of being lost, as something that has been wagered; critically involved." 

My favorite part of this definition is “in danger of being lost” because it basically sums up the most important part of the definition.

When people say that we need to know the stakes in a pitch, they’re really saying we need to know what your protagonist has to lose. We need to know what will happen if your protagonist fails to reach his or her goal.

Why is this so important? The answer is simple: without established stakes, the readers have no reason to care if your protagonist fails or accomplishes his goal. The tension disappears, the conflict doesn’t matter because if your protagonist loses, oh well. Not like anything bad happens.

In other words: boring. Take any story and remove the stakes and the plot will fall apart. For example:

Without the fate of Middle Earth in Frodo’s hands, The Lord of the Rings would just be a really long trilogy about people trying to vacation in Mordor.

Without Prim’s life on the line, there’s no reason for Katniss to volunteer to take her place as tribute, because she’d be back in a couple weeks anyway. No biggie.

I suspect a large part of the reason writers sometimes forget to mention the stakes in their pitch is because they’re so close to their work. The writer knows what will happen if their protagonist fails and sometimes it seems obvious to them even in their stake-less pitch what that failure means--but to the outside reader who doesn’t know the story so well (or at all, for that matter), they need the stakes spelled out to them.

So next time you’re writing up or revising a query pitch (or any pitch, for that matter), take a good look at what you have and make sure you can identify the stakes from the words in front of you. It’s importance cannot be overstressed.

Can you identify the stakes from your latest pitch or back cover copy? 

Character Development: What Do They Want?

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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

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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.

On Reading "Bad" Books

Photo credit: Wiertz Sébastien on Flickr

So there's been this belief going around for some time now that the quality of books—especially popular books—has been decreasing over time. It's this idea that the books people enjoy reading today are somehow lesser than the novels that were popular twenty, fifty, even a hundred years ago. 

And it bothers me. 

It bothers me that people look at Twilight and The Hunger Games and Harry Potter and even Fifty Shades of Grey and say things like, the garbage that people read nowadays, and this book will never stand up to x-classic, and it bothers me that there's this belief that the books people enjoy reading now are somehow worth less than what people used to read. 

I'm not going to try to tell you that Twilight was written with the same literary finesse as Great Expectations or Brave New World—that's obviously not the case—but I truly don't believe that makes it a lesser book, and furthermore, I don't think that makes anyone who read Twilight and loved it a lesser reader for enjoying it. 

Regardless of what you think about these massively popular books, they accomplished something that shouldn't be overlooked—they got people reading. I've heard people say, I don't usually like reading, but I read Twilight (or Hunger Games or Harry Potter) and loved it. I know people who rarely read, who picked up novels that others like to call "garbage" and guess what? Not only did they enjoy it, but they realized reading isn't so bad after all. They realized the right book can actually make the reading experience—*gasp*—enjoyable. 

I picked up the Twilight series in 2010, long after the crazy fandom had already stated and the first two movies had already been released, and I realized as I was reading in public that I felt self-conscious. I was getting looks and I felt the need to defend myself and say, "What? I haven't read the series yet," and people seemed relieved when they found out I wasn't re-reading the series, as if that would be something horrific. And even then, the insinuation that I should be somehow embarrassed about reading the series in public bugged me, because no one should feel that way reading a book.

And now it's happening again, except this time it's with Fifty Shades of Grey. And I'll admit—I was tempted, especially at first, to think, why in the world are people reading that? How did that get popular? But the fact of the matter is, people who don't normally read very often are reading—and enjoying—the series, and even if I won't be picking up the book next time I head to the bookstore, maybe it'll remind people that reading isn't so bad after all. Maybe it'll make people who don't often read pause before they dismiss the idea of picking up another book. 

I'm not saying that you have to enjoy every popular series that is released—or even that you have to read every massively successful book out there—I know I haven't, and I have no plans to do so. All I'm saying is that this idea floating around that so-called "garbage" books are somehow damaging our culture or aren't worth the time spent to read them needs to stop. All I'm saying is that we should celebrate the fact that people are reading, even if we don't necessarily agree with what they're reading.

All I'm saying is a book is a book, and if it gets people reading, that's good enough for me. 

 
What do you think about reading so-called "bad" books? Do you agree with the stigma? Why or why not?

How to Write Characters Your Readers Love

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Question: What do Sirius Black, Finnick Odair, Robin "Puck" Goodfellow, Kenji Kishimoto and Remus Lupin have in common? (Hint: They DON'T all die.)  

Answer: They're all non-main characters that many readers fell in love with. They also all happen to be male with relatively awesome names, but that's not the point. 

Point is, these five guys developed a pretty extensive fan base, despite the fact that most of them were side characters. So how does that happen? How do authors write characters that fans falls so in love with that when some of them meet untimely ends, readers shed actual tears over the loss? 

Let's take a quick look at each of the characters: 

• Sirius Black (Harry Potter by J.K. Rowling). Sirius Black is one of my personal all-time favorite characters ever. He's a highly misunderstood man who spent years of his life trapped in the worst kind of prison imaginable for a crime he didn't commit, Harry's only hope at a "normal" life in a loving home, fiercely protective of his godson (but not to the point that he tries to shelter him), and armed with enough wit to make Snape blush. Combined with the fact that he's an adorable/badass dog half the time, there isn't much not to like about Sirius. 


• Finnick Odair (Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins). Finnick is attractive, witty, infuriates/embarrasses Katniss on more than one occasion, and turns out to have to have a horrible past that makes you feel guilty for misjudging him as a total tool in Catching Fire (or maybe that was just me). Top that off with his unconditional love for a fellow ex-tribute who isn't all there, Finnick earns his spot as a fan favorite pretty quickly. 


• Robin "Puck" Goodfellow (Iron Fey Series by Julie Kagawa). (Slight spoiler) Puck is Meghan's long-time best friend and secret guardian with a sharp tongue and penchant for tricks and trouble-making, so when he gets friend-boxed, you can't help but feel bad for the poor guy. Furthermore, when he remains loyal to Meghan despite his unrequited love, readers love him all the more. 


• Kenji Kishimoto (Shatter Me by Tahereh Mafi). I'm not spoiling much when I say we all know Juliette isn't going to fall for Kenji—that much is pretty clear right from the beginning. But we can't help but admire his spirit when he tries to woo her over to him anyway (and make us laugh while attempting to do so), and plus there's the whole risking-his-life-to-help-Juliette-thing. 


• Remus Lupin (Harry Potter by J.K. Rowling). After Sirius, Remus was probably my second-favorite minor Harry Potter character (tied with the Weasley twins), and I felt it important to include him because unlike the previous four, Remus is not funny. He's a very intense and serious character, largely afraid of himself and what he might do during a certain phase of the moon, and is entirely loyal to his friends and loved ones. Readers feel bad for Remus, and when he finds happiness we can't help but be glad that something good has finally come his way. 

So what do they all have in common that makes readers love them? 

They're all characters readers became emotionally invested in. They made us laugh and cry and sympathize with them. We learned about their darkest secrets and what makes them happy, what scares them and what makes them angry. Their creators didn't write them lightly—they're carefully written and fully-developed characters that we as readers can't help but love. 

The lesson is this: in order to write characters that your readers love, you need to invest just as much time and effort to get to know them as you did your protagonist. If you want your readers to remember the names of more than just your MC, you need to take time to really understand what makes your side characters tick, so that when time comes to write them, they feel just as real as your major characters. 

As a writer, you have to fall in love with your side characters first. Once you do, writing them so that your readers adore them just as much as you do will come that much easier. 

Who are your favorite side characters? What made you love them as much as you do? 

Short Story or Novel Idea: How Do You Tell?

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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? 

A Lesson from Bestsellers: Write Whatever You Want

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Not too long ago I wrote a post on What Makes a Book a Bestseller, and with The Hunger Games breaking all sorts of records in the box office, many people are left wondering what will be the next big thing.

Although fans would most certainly disagree, many have called The Hunger Games the next Twilight, and others have speculated what the next Hunger Games would be, but I think if bestsellers have taught us anything, it's that very rarely is there a next x (where x is a previous franchise, anyway).

Allow me to explain. If, for example, the fan base behind a non-Twilight vampire series exploded, meriting a debut on the screen and ridiculous merchandise sales, then yes, it might be appropriate to call the new phenomena the next Twilight. But as it is, The Hunger Games is about as similar to Twilight as Edward Cullen is to Mad-Eye Moody—both are fictional characters with recognizable names, but there ends the similarities.

Now I'm aware that when people refer to a phenomenon as the next x, they aren't referring to the similarities between the two, but the popularity of the franchise. That's fair, but comparing the two, at least to me, indicates some sort of lumping together (i.e.: Twilight and Hunger Games), which isn't fair to either book.

Harry Potter and Twilight and The Hunger Games are all their own separate entities. They were bestsellers for various reasons, none of which include their authors trying to write the next x. Time and time again when successful authors have talked about their experience writing their book, by and large they have talked about writing the story—their story, the story that only they could write. The point wasn't to be hugely successful or write the next big thing, the point was, and always will be, to write the book that demanded to be written.

And that is a lesson that all of us should remember.

The next hugely popular book won't be the next Harry Potter or Hunger Games or Twilight— it'll be the next it. It'll be its own thing with its own synthesis of ideas and characters and the right combination of word-of-mouth and captivating story. It'll be the book that the author had to write, the book that they pounded into the page over the course of years, the book that the author never equated with the other bestsellers because it is its own it.

The bestsellers are telling us something, and it's not just that vampires and magic and dystopians are popular— they're telling us to write the story that you want to write and worry about the rest later.

Or don't worry about it at all. Who knows? One day your book may be the next it.

What do you think? Have you learned any lessons from the bestsellers? 

How to Plot Without Plotting

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Whether you’re a plotter or a pantser, most of us can probably agree that it’s generally a good idea to have some idea of where you’re going before you start a novel. Even if the idea is as vague as cyborg falls in love with anti-technological hippie girl or when marshmallows attack, it’s necessary to have some form of direction before you launch into the enormous project of writing a book.

So I’ve talked in the past about plotting with flashcards, and this is even quicker and easier than that.

For those of you who follow the amazing Nathan Bransford’s blog, you might have seen this post two years ago on how to write a one sentence pitch. Combined with some fantastic advice from various plot posts and writing books, I’ve found the one sentence pitch to be a great tool not only for summarizing your book to friends, family and potential agents and publishers, but to give you a focus right from the beginning of the novel-writing stage.

For those of you who haven’t heard of the one sentence pitch before, it’s basically what it sounds like—your book summarized into a single sentence that, according to the wise Nathan Bransford, contains the inciting incident, obstacle, and the quest (for more detailed information, definitely check out his post).

The entire plot summed up into a single sentence.

You can find these pitches at the very beginning of many novels on the same page as the copyright information. Here are some examples:

• The Hunger Games (Suzanne Collins): “In a future North America, where the rulers of Panem maintain control through an annual televised survival competition pitting young people from each of the twelve districts against one another, sixteen-year-old Katniss’s skills are put to the test when she voluntarily takes her younger sister’s place.”


• Shatter Me (Tahereh Mafi): “Ostracized or incarcerated her whole life, seventeen-year-old Juliette is freed on the condition that she use her horrific abilities in support of The Reestablishment, a postapocalyptic dictatorship, but Adam, the only person ever to show her affection, offers hope of a better future.”


• Dark Inside (Jeyn Roberts): “After tremendous earthquakes destroy the Earth’s major cities, an ancient evil emerges, turning ordinary people into hunters, killers, and insane monsters but a small group of teens comes together in a fight for survival and safety.”

Now although these single sentence summaries are often developed long after the book was written, it can be a very powerful plotting tool if they’re created before you begin writing. The one sentence pitch gives you the full scope of the story before you start writing, while still allowing for a great amount of creativity between the lines. For pantsers, it means laying down basic groundwork to build off of without restraining any spontaneous creativity and for plotters it means establishing the nuts and bolts of the story in a single fluid sentence.

It’s an effective tool for any type of plotter.  

So what do you think? Have you ever tried using the pitch as a plotting tool? 

What Makes a Book a Bestseller?

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With the release of The Hunger Games movie just a few weeks away and the internet still buzzing with J.K. Rowling's big book announcement, it's unsurprising really, that many of us have bestsellers on the brain.

Over the course of the past decade, we've seen huge explosions of book fandom, of so-called "overnight successes" complete with hoards of raving fans that would make a rock star proud. We've seen Harry Potter become a household name, Twilight fans battle it out between sparkly vampires and werewolves and The Hunger Games open up the door for a slew of popular dystopian novels.

But what do the bestsellers have in common?

For the sake of not slapping you with a ridiculously long post, I'll stick to comparing two: Harry Potter and The Hunger Games. Upon first glance, these novels may seem to be about as similar as Twilight vampires are to Dracula—Harry Potter is a middle grade novel about a boy wizard who ultimately has to save the world from the very evil Lord Voldemort and The Hunger Games is a young adult book about a girl who enters a fight for the death in order to save her family and ends up fighting for a much greater cause.

Upon closer inspection, however, these two books actually have quite a bit in common.

How Harry Potter and The Hunger Games are similar:

• Memorable, flawed characters. I wrote an entire post about my love for flawed characters in which both Harry Potter and Katniss were mentioned, so I won’t go through the entire thing again, but in short, flawed characters are infinitely more believable than their perfect counterparts and memorable characters can truly make a book special. What would Harry Potter be without Dobby, Hagrid, the Weasley twins, Filch or even Umbridge? Or The Hunger Games series without Cinna, Prim, Haymitch and Effie?


• Detailed world-building. There's a reason Universal built Harry Potter land and it isn't just because castles are pretty. The wizarding world J.K. Rowling built is simply incredible—from the moving staircases and talking portraits in Hogwarts, to the creepy old shops of Knockturn Alley and the wonder of platform 9 3/4, I can think of few people who read Harry Potter and didn't want to visit.
  
  The world of The Hunger Games —although certainly not on anyone's vacation list—was built just as carefully so that Panem didn't seem quite as far-fetched as it might have without the proper details. Everything from the craziness of the Capitol with their ridiculous priorities and fashion trends to the specialization of the districts and the mysterious District 13 rang just true enough for suspension of disbelief.


• Great evil to fight. From a frighteningly powerful mass-murdering wizard with a devout—and decidedly twisted following—to a powerful president who smells like blood and roses, there's no question that Harry and Katniss had very powerful and evil figureheads to fight throughout their journeys.


• Very high stakes. With the fate of the entire world (both wizarding and normal) on Harry's shoulders and the people of Panem depending on Katniss—failure for these two characters is unfathomable. If they lose, they won't be the only ones to suffer—everyone's fate depends on their success.

For the sake of brevity I'll stop the list there, but let's continue this discussion in the comments:

What other elements do bestsellers (these or others) have in common? What do you think makes a book a bestseller?

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).

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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! 

Character Beauty in Imperfection

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Not too long ago, I wrote a post on what makes a character beautiful. While I talked about inner versus outer beauty then, today I want to talk about another aspect of the equation.

Imperfection.

The most memorable characters to me (and I suspect I’m not the only one), by and large are the ones with imperfections. The ones who make mistakes, who battle inner demons as well as evil antagonists, who fight a war inside themselves that reflects the war going on around them. My favorite characters are conflicted people doing the best they can with what they’ve been given, and the choices they make are often a far cry from perfection.

And that’s the way it should be.

When you think about it, imperfect characters are something many of the most popular books have in common:

The Hunger Games—Katniss is known for being a strong female lead, but sometimes she’s too strong. In the first book she has difficulty getting sponsors (which are necessary for survival) to like her because, frankly, she’s not a particularly likable person. Imperfection. Depth.

Harry Potter—Even if you haven’t read Harry Potter, you probably know Harry is far from perfect. He makes plenty of mistakes (some with dire consequences), he’s often a jerk to his friends and it takes him the course of seven books to realize that he doesn’t need to fight his battles alone. Imperfection. Depth.

Imperfect characters resonate with readers because they’re realistic—just as no one is perfect in real life, no characters should be perfect on the page. Imperfections, to me, are beautiful—they’re the nuances that make our characters unique, the flaws that make them real, the conflicts that make us believe these are real people in real situations.

Imperfections add a powerful layer of depth to our characters—are you utilizing them?

Think about your favorite characters—were they imperfect? What about them draw you to them? What other examples of imperfect characters can you think of?

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?