Category: Craft

photo of muddy tennis shoe shod foot in yucky mud
Posted in Craft, The Nitty Gritty of Children's Writing

PREPARING to Set the Scene

Posted on by Susan Uhlig

We all know we need to establish scenes with specific details. And we probably all know to use multiple sensory details. But author Mitali Perkins during a talk at the Big Sur Children’s Workshop, suggested some preparation before we write that I found particularly helpful.

She said, “Use details about place to reveal more about people and plot.” So not just random details. But deliberate details.

Mitali also said, “Choose a place that reflects and echoes the plot or emotion.” I’ll admit I tend just to put characters where I think they would be during their day—THIS is obviously going to take more work!

Then she gave us a writing practice using our own works-in-progress.

Step 1: Place

Imagine a particular place in your story with all five senses.

For example, an upset kid might dash outside and hear a police siren, a leaf blower. Might see and smell unpleasant things, etc. (Might experience the situation in the above photo.)

Step 2: People

Who is in this scene? How are they positioned in that place when the scene starts?

Step 3: Plot
Write down the emotion (depressed, scared, furious, delighted, etc.) your main character is feeling.

So, I wrote down place, people, plot. (My main character is worried.)

I listed the senses I planned to use:

  • Visual  – Fault on a screen
  • Smell – Burnt toast
  • Sound – An annoying creak of her chair
  • Touch – A hangnail

While writing my section of scene—we only had ten minutes—I found how much those planned senses amped up my writing. Knowing what senses I’d use, made the writing flow. Thank you, Mitali.

Check out the books by this talented writer!

front shoulder and head of brown horse with black manbe in front of white rock wall, partially obscured by greenery
Posted in Craft, The Nitty Gritty of Children's Writing

Are You Explaining?

Posted on by Susan Uhlig

In this picture, do you need someone to tell you the animal has four legs, hooves, and a tail? Probably not. You know it’s a horse and make assumptions about it having legs, etc. Yet, somehow in our writing, we often want to explain.

If you find yourself using phrases such as: knowing that, trying to comprehend, struggling to discern, feeling like, wondering why, worrying, because it was, etc., you’re not trusting your reader. “We want our readers to be invested, to stay curious about the stories we’re writing. Sometimes, this translates to being too overt, holding their hand the entire way through, not allowing them to join the dots themselves.” – Michael Woodson

When we explain, we dilute the intensity of a scene. We’re probably telling, not showing. “Just as naming emotions can evoke no emotion from the reader, it also signals that you don’t trust them enough to understand what you’re trying to show.” – Kristen Overman 

Let your reader have the success of “getting it” without you hitting them over the head. “If you’re afraid your readers won’t understand what he’s [a character] doing, or how he’s feeling about it, revise your showing section. Don’t just tack a bit of telling on the end. If you’ve done your job well enough, the reader will get it.” – Melinda Brasher

Other warning signs of explaining are stating emotion in addition to dialogue: his tone was urgent, she sounded upset, my mood shifted, etc. And of course those adverbs with said or asked. (He asked urgently. Use a stronger verb instead, such as demanded.) Take a look at these lines of dialogue:

  • “Don’t you dare touch that!” – This person’s all happy, right? No. They sound annoyed or angry.
  • “That’s hilarious.” – This person found something funny, so no need to say more.
  • “I’ve got to get one of these.” – Sound like excitement. It could also be envy.

More context will help your reader decide, but often dialogue stands well enough alone.

We also may over explain with interiority. Too many thoughts to explain what the reader is feeling and why. Let the actions show. I like how Ruth E. Walker says it, “A simple constriction of the throat — don’t we all know that feeling when sorrow moves up from our aching hearts to tighten our throats? And tears that we can’t stop, coursing down our cheeks and sliding off our chins? Simple short images that call up our own experiences with sorrow—without any window dressing.” (Read more here.)

“The more you leave out, the more you highlight what you leave in,” Henry Green said. Wow! Read that again. That means we’ve been muddying up the story by not leaving things out.

“It’s not just delivering information; it’s engaging with the readers, pulling them in, making them part of the journey. Don’t just spill out everything—leave hints and crumbs that lead to no real right or wrong answer…” – redacted4u on Reddit.

Note: I kept hearing Audrey Hepburn as Eliza Doolittle, saying, “Don’t expline. Show me,” while working on this post.

photo of woman facing us writng Let go! on glass so we can see the words
Posted in Craft, The Nitty Gritty of Children's Writing

Letting Go of the Words on the Page

Posted on by Susan Uhlig

I told another writer, “I wonder if the beginning of your scene would be better if it was chronological.” (It had two short flashbacks to a time shortly before the present time.) Then I realized my current chapter opening wasn’t chronological either! As I rewrote I realized my flashback meant I glossed over an important scene with a summary.

My excuse—it was an old piece of writing. Sometimes words on the page are hard to change. I think I would have been better off starting with a blank document. “To fall in love with the first draft to the point where one cannot change it is to greatly enhance the prospects of never publishing,” said Richard North Patterson. I’d add “any draft.” 

I’ve learned a lot since I first wrote that chapter. I’ve even blogged about keeping scenes moment by moment and being on scene for important parts of a story. Obviously, I needed to reread my own posts before tackling this chapter revision.

Amanda Reynolds said, “…compelling scenes in novels are perfectly formed and distinct whilst adhering to the overarching story and theme.” A summary is not compelling. That’s fine, if it’s a simple transition. But in my case it was an argument the main character has with his mother and it affects the whole story! And I’d summarized it! I never would have realized it without critiquing someone else’s writing.

So, how do we let go?

First, be open. Open to change. We have to be prepared to look at our writing with new eyes, even if we’ve been writing for a long time. We have to see what’s actually on the page.

Distance doesn’t always help me with this. So perhaps, I need to examine the purpose of the scene. Why did I write this section? What is it for? What mood do I want to establish? What do I want a reader to garner? In my chapter, it was the inciting incident, not simple backstory where I’d shoved it.

Second, get feedback. A critique of  our writing helps us see our blind spots. That means we have to be ready to listen. Willing to think about it. Whether the suggestions are spot on or not, they usually point out something is not working. How we fix it is up to us.

Third, pay attention to what you say to others. You might teach yourself something as I did. Ask yourself questions. Why is this bothering me? When you figure that out, you might discover you have been doing something similar.

Finally, have other projects. Don’t have all your hopes and dreams tied up in a single manuscript. It may be that this is not the right work-in-progress. At least for now. Having another project to work on may let your subconscious work on the story for you and you might come back to it refreshed by the break. Or you may find the other manuscript moves ahead by leaps and bounds and you no longer care so much about the first one.

Letting go is a painful process, but I want to leave you with this encouraging thought from Kelly Barnhill, “That’s the magic of revisions—every cut is necessary, and every cut hurts, but something new always grows.”

photo of girl with open book blowing confetti off the pages
Posted in Craft, The Nitty Gritty of Children's Writing

Six Elements for Openings

Posted on by Susan Uhlig

A number of years back, I went to a Donald Maass (literary agent) event on “The Emotional Craft of Fiction.” (There’s also a book: The Emotional Craft of Fiction: How to Write the Story Beneath the Surface.) I really enjoyed it and learned some new craft tools to apply to my work. If you ever get a chance to hear him speak, I strongly recommend going. His website is here and to read specifically about Donald and where he is speaking, go here.

A portion of his talk that really struck me is the six elements of openings. Some were familiar, and some were presented in a way new to me. Here they are:

  1. Mood?
  2. Story question?
  3. Life or death?
  4. Language/style?
  5. Need/urgency?
  6. Strength

Note they all are questions, but the latter. We want strength in some way from a main character. This allows us to trust that the protagonist is going to lead us on an interesting journey.

Donald illuminated these ideas with sample passages from several books and one unpublished manuscript. I’m going to briefly show these elements with an example from a book I’ve read, Alone (Aladdin, 2021) by Megan E. Freeman. This is all from the first poem, which you can read on Amazon’s read sample. (You may want to stop here and read it first.)

Does it make you want to read on? It definitely did so for me. It’s not even the most active scene. But I was hooked.

Here’s how I answered those six element questions:

The mood – lonely existence

Story questions – Why is she alone? How has she been surviving? Where is her family? What happened three years ago?!

Life or death – life and death

Language/style  –  poetic

Need/urgency – survival

Strength – Yes! This is one strong girl who has to make decisions most of us will never have to make.

For me when I look at the opening of a book, the most difficult element question to answer is language/style. Since this one was a novel in verse, it was easier in this case.

We can analyze the openings of our own manuscripts by using these elements. Or ask our critique group or beta readers to answer these questions for us. If their answers aren’t what we expect, that may be okay. But if the answers are not where we wanted the opening to take them, it’s back to the keyboard.

For further reading, additional posts on my blog:

Hooking your Reader

The Power of a Good First Line

Professional Problem Maker

Rhyming Picture Book Openings

cartoon of a man with top of his head gone and planets above like that's what he is thinking
Posted in Craft, The Nitty Gritty of Children's Writing

Introspection

Posted on by Susan Uhlig

Introspection – The act of looking inward to examine one’s own thoughts and feelings.

Introspection by your main character is good, but it can also be too much of a good thing. I get annoyed when introspection does the following:

  • Happening when there wouldn’t really be time for it. The bombs are falling, the cougar is about to pounce, we’re running from an enemy, etc. Who has time to think about anything beyond the danger?
  • Going on so long I forget where we were. Wait? What was happening? Oh, yeah, the main character was just about to do something. Maybe the thoughts shouldn’t go on so long, or should relate directly to the future action. Or maybe a transition would help fix this problem. (Character thought: Now what was I going to do? Oh, yeah, make my bed.)
  • When it replaces interaction. Characters should do more than think, they should also act. And specifically interact with other people. K.M. Weiland has a great example of introspection replacing interaction here. A good question to ask is, would this be better shown with conversation or action than thoughts?

I like what novelist Gail Gaymer Martin says, “Too much can be boring since introspection is passive, and too little deprives the reader of getting to know the depth of a character’s needs, longings, and struggles.”

Too little introspection? This is where my critique group asks, “What is he thinking?” or “What is she feeling?” We read because we like knowing what’s going on in someone’s head—the why behind their actions. Write what your character is thinking to give insight to her actions and decisions. September C. Fawkes says, “Often if there isn’t enough introspection, the audience struggles to follow, logically, what is going on and why.”

I saw this list of useful questions for writing introspection on a Reddit post by wdjm:

  • Why does he feel that way?
  • How does he feel about feeling that way about the action (ex: if he’s happy a bad guy got hurt, does he feel guilty about being happy someone got hurt, even if it was a bad guy?)
  • What does he hope happens next?
  • What does he dread might happen next?
  • Does he want to tell someone about what’s happening? (“I can’t wait to tell my BF about this!”)
  • Or is he scared someone might find out about it? (“I hope my mother doesn’t learn about this!”)
  • Maybe he doesn’t really care about what’s going on. What’s he thinking about instead? (“Oh, the neighbors are fighting again. How annoying. Hmm. Maybe I’ll order a pizza tonight.”)

Check that your main character’s introspection serves a purpose. Does your character change because of his thoughts? Does she realize something new? Is a new action realized due to the internal monologue? “Introspection is one of the key elements of growing up and moving forward,” Kelly Rogers says. That works for our characters too.

Just like with description, mixing internal dialogue in with action helps avoid too much at once. “That new understanding or new goal or desire, and the size of it, may only become apparent in bits and pieces and stages, not necessarily one huge Moment.” – Emma Darwin

Introspection should also show something of the main character’s personality or beliefs. I love this quote I found in an absolutewrite forum, “Make sure it oozes personality: Is your character funny? Sarcastic? Morbidly dark? Hyperbolic? Adding bits of their personality to the introspection makes it more engaging.” – Raivnor

Keep on target. Elizabeth Grayson says, “While our thoughts sometimes come in stream of consciousness, a genre fiction character’s thoughts are relentlessly logical. They must segue from one to the next in a manner the reader can follow — even if the character you’re writing is a flake.”

For further reading:

Note:

Interiority – The sum total of a character’s internal life—their thoughts, feelings, emotions, and physical sensations.

“3 Common Interiority Mistakes (and How to Fix Them)” by Savannah Gilbo

“How to Write Introspection Well: Show ‘Just Enough’” by September C. Fawkes

“The Importance of Interiority in Novels and Memoirs” by Mary Kole