Category: Blog (Page 15 of 25)

Sympathy for the Titan: Thanos & How to Create a Good Bad Guy

May 29, 2018 /

In Avengers: Infinity War, Peter Quill calls Thanos “Grimace.” Funny insult, but Thanos is anything but a cartoon character.

Thanos

Thanos, played by Josh Brolin, is the central villain of Marvel Studios’ latest blockbuster. If you’ve seen the movie already (I’m assuming you have, otherwise, why are you reading this?), then you know he’s an excellent villain. In fact, people all over the internet are raving about him. Some have even called him the Marvel Cinematic Universe‘s best villain, full stop. (I think that distinction belongs to the Mandarin, but that’s just me.)

Thanos is indeed an excellent villain. Why is he so compelling? Why are audiences responding so well to such a bad dude? And for writers like you and me, what can we borrow from Thanos and share with our own villains?

Thanos is Tragic

Thanos’s life is a sad story. He’s an outsider with no home, and he’s pretty much the worst dad ever. He believes half the universe must die so the other half may live; this mission has left him utterly alone. Imagine having a calling for your entire life, which no one has ever agreed with or understood. That’s Thanos. His life is a tragedy. This is a significant reason why audiences respond so well to him.

Furthermore, the events of the film hit Thanos harder than any other character. Just after he’s collected all the Infinity Stones and his plan is finally set in motion, there’s a brief, somewhat hallucinogenic scene in which Thanos approaches a young Gamora, his adopted daughter who he sacrificed earlier in the film (told you not to read this). She asks if he accomplished what he said out to do; he answers yes. And when Gamora asks what it cost him, he says, “Everything.”

It’s these moments of humanity that make the character so resonant. It’s easy to write villains who commit terrible acts simply because the plot demands it. What is much more difficult, and ultimately more compelling, is a villain who earns our sympathy. Thanos does exactly that.

Thanos is Actually Kind of Right

Remember when I mentioned that Thanos has no home? It’s not because he’s been evicted. Rather, it’s because his home planet of Titan is dead. The cause of said death: overpopulation. In Thanos’s estimation, the resources of the planet could never sustain its demands. As a result, everybody went the way of the dodo.

Titan’s fate is essential to justifying Thanos’s evil plan. He’s not only claiming overpopulation is an issue—he’s actually witnessed its consequences. Likewise, the audience needs to see this as well. By observing the ruin of his home world, we as the viewers understand why he does what he does.

Furthermore, there’s a certain logic to his plan beyond the world of the film. Sadly, overpopulation is a real problem in the real world, as we know. Resources are not unlimited, at least not right now. So the film touches on a real issue, and works off a real problem.

Thanos is Positioned as the Film’s Protagonist

Thanos

Classic storytelling structure dictates a story’s protagonist strives to achieve a central goal. The antagonist, on the other hand, must prevent the protagonist from accomplishing said goal. We usually see protagonists portrayed as heroes and antagonists portrayed as villains.

Now let’s apply that framework to Avengers: Infinity War. The central goal of the film is Thanos’s pursuit of the Infinity Stones—which would then make him the protagonist of the film. And that would therefore make the Avengers the antagonists, since they want to prevent the protagonist from achieving his goal. Co-director Anthony Russo confirmed this notion by stating, “The moment I felt like we had cracked the movie creatively, was when we started to think about Thanos as the lead character of the movie.”

There you have it. Thanos is a great villain because in many ways, he’s not a villain. In many ways, he’s actually the film’s protagonist.

In my opinion, Thanos’s reputation as one of the MCU’s greatest villains is spot on. A great deal of care, time, and thought went into this character, and it shows. Who knew a big, buff purple guy could be so deep?

 

Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his fiancee and their two cats. His stories have appeared in numerous online magazines, including Allegory, Chantwood, and Dark Fire Fiction.



Why the “This Meets That” Pitch Doesn’t Work

April 23, 2018 /

“It’s Star Wars meets Weekend at Bernie’s.”

“It’s Birdman meets Serial.”

“It’s Dashiell Hammett meets Kelly Link.”

Have you seen this style of pitch before? I have. I call it the “this meets that” pitch. I’m sick of it, and today I’d like to tell you why. Okay, here goes. I have a feeling this is going to be a controversial post…

“This Meets That” is Simplistic

Every work of art is unique, and yours is no exception. You’ve worked hard on it. You’ve rearranged, refined, iterated, and improved your story, likely over the course of months (or even years). The “this meets that” pitch oversimplifies all your hard work.

To put it another way, imagine someone pitched the sport of volleyball as “basketball meets tennis.” Not a bad comparison; Spiking a volleyball is similar to blocking a shot in basketball, and both volleyball and tennis involve hitting a ball over a net. But volleyball is about way more than spiking and a net. “This meets that” omits the subtleties that make the sport its own. It does the same to your story.

“This Meets That” is Risky

You know that picture of a young woman and an old woman combined? At first, you might only see one of the two. Yet when someone points out the other figure, you’ll likely notice it every time you see the picture. Once you see it, you can’t un-see it.

The same principle applies to your story. When you use “this meets that,” readers will constantly conflate your work with two others. What if your readers detest the stories you mentioned? What if your readers never heard of them? What if they feel your story doesn’t live up to the comparison? Describing your work in terms of others exposes it to unnecessary risk. And pitching a story should not be like rolling a dice.

“This Meets That” Doesn’t Age Well

At the risk of sounding like an old dude, storytelling is way different than it was back in my day. Modern books, movies, and TV shows spawn at an incredible rate. This hyper-production places greater importance on the new and the current. In 2008, “The Hunger Games meets Paper Towns“ might’ve made for a decent pitch. But 10 years later, that same description won’t carry the meaning it once did.

Similarly, if I pitched “Stranger Things meets A Quiet Place” today, that might get readers’ attention. But let’s say someone comes across that same pitch a few years from now. Stranger Things might be off the air and A Quiet Place might only exist on select streaming services. In other words, your “this meets that pitch” might become meaningless sooner than you think.

In Conclusion

The Mona Lisa is so much more than “paint meets canvas.” Likewise, our works are more than amalgams of others. Instead of focusing on how our stories are similar to previous stories, I believe we should highlight what makes them different. That, in my opinion, is the key to a great pitch.

Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his fiancee and their two cats. His stories have appeared in numerous online magazines, including Allegory, Chantwood, and Dark Fire Fiction.



The Infinity Draft: 3 Questions That Can Help End the Endless

April 16, 2018 /

There are novels in the world which do not end. This is not necessarily as cool as it sounds.

I’m talking about that novel you’ve been working on for five (or more) years. The one you enjoy for 50 pages, enjoy a little less for the next 50, then ultimately start over from the beginning. It’s the novel you rejigger again and again, endlessly. In honor of the new Avengers movie, I’m calling it the Infinity Draft. Plus it sounds cool.

I’m here to tell you that the Infinity Draft need not take up all your writing time. These three questions might help you finally put your project to rest.

1. Will Restarting Really Make It Better?

Before remodeling a kitchen, interior designers must seriously consider whether or not the project will actually improve the space. Likewise, as writers, we must only start over if we’re completely convinced doing so will make our book better. (Okay, I admit the kitchen metaphor breaks down somewhat when we’re talking about HGTV or the like. Whatever, I’m keeping it.)

Before rebooting your Infinity Draft, take a serious moment to consider why you’re doing it. Starting from scratch is serious stuff; it means a lot of added hours tacked onto what you’ve already done. Instead, I recommend doing your best to finish your Infinity Draft, even if you feel like it’s not working. Give yourself a few extra days to rediscover that passion you had for the project when you first imagined it.

2. What’s Not Working Here?

My Infinity Draft was an epic fantasy novel I started in high school. At first it was super fun, but the further I got into the story, the less I knew what to do. So I started over. Again, everything was going great…until I got lost in the plot. When I didn’t know how to proceed, I started over again. And again. And again.

When I look back on it, the book itself wasn’t the issue—it was my approach. I’d start with a handful of characters and a vague idea for an opening scene, then I’d write myself into a corner. I needed direction. Though I’m not really an architect (a writer who works strictly off an outline), I need to know where my story’s taking me. Otherwise, it goes nowhere.

This might be the cause of your Infinity Draft. Does your manuscript need more structure? Do you know your characters well enough to write an entire book about them? You might find that the solution isn’t just starting over completely. You might be better served developing an outline or focusing on your structure.

3. Are You Meant to Wait on This Story?

It’s difficult to admit, but it’s certainly a possibility. Your Infinity Draft might be plaguing you because it’s just not the right story for you at this point in your life.

Stephen King, for instance, conceived of the idea for 11/22/63 way back in the 70s. Yet the novel wasn’t published until 2011. That’s because he felt that as a young writer, he simply wasn’t equipped to write such an ambitious work. He shelved the idea for decades until he felt he was finally ready to come back to it.

Again, this is a really hard decision to make for any writer, but sometimes it’s the right one. Imagine if King just tried to write 11/22/63 over and over again. He may never have written Carrie, ‘Salem’s Lot, The Shining, or his other classics.

If you do indeed decide to shelve your novel, remind yourself that this isn’t goodbye. It’s just see you later, Infinity Draft.

In Conclusion

I hope these thoughts help you sort out your Infinity Draft. They can be a pain in the ol’ keister sometimes, but I do hope these thoughts help. Turn those Infinity Drafts into finished works of art!

Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his fiancee and their two cats. His stories have appeared in numerous online magazines, including Allegory, Chantwood, and Dark Fire Fiction.



Story Ideas: Where Do They Come From and Where Can We Find More?

April 9, 2018 /
Lightbulb

It’s never this easy.

I’ve heard it said that great ideas are easy to come by—it’s the writing that’s the hard part. I don’t buy it!

On the contrary, I think when you start with a great idea, the writing blossoms from there. So the question is, how do we come by those great ideas?

Man, I wish I knew. I’m no more of an idea factory than anyone else. What I can say is, I’m always trying new methods. Some work, some don’t, but here are a few of my favorite idea generators.

Keep a Notebook

My mom encouraged me to do this, and I’m glad she did. Writer or not, everyone has a hundred ideas every day—it’s just that we remember few of them. That’s where the notebook comes in.

This thing should be the Robin to your Batman, so make sure it’s small enough to fit in your pocket. Whenever you have an idea, any idea, jot it down. It’s perfect for those thoughts that just need to gestate a bit, or perhaps an overheard conversation that would make a great scene of dialogue, or maybe a solution to that complex conflict between your central characters.

If you’re interested, Joan Didion’s essay “On Keeping a Notebook“ explores this topic with much more eloquence than I can. Check it out!

Focus on the Fun Ideas

This one seems like a no-brainer, but a lot of writers (including myself) seem to forget it.

I remember working on a manuscript for far longer than I should have, forcing my way through and groaning whenever it was time to write. Truth was, the initial idea turned out to be far more interesting than the piece itself.

Two months in, I realized I wasn’t having fun anymore. So I put the manuscript away, all 40,000 words of it.

I didn’t throw it away (more on that later), but I didn’t force it, either. Not every piece will be like eating ice cream, but fun should be an essential part of your writing process. After all, if you don’t have fun writing a piece, no one’s going to have fun reading it.

Don’t Abandon Anything

Even if you think you’ve just written the literary equivalent of Plan 9 from Outer Space, keep it! Every idea is like a seed. Some never grow. Some grow into shrubs and die in their first winter. But some flourish and grow tall. Pretty soon, you’ll have yourself one mighty fine-looking tree.

George R.R. Martin encourages young writers to never throw away anything, and here’s a good example why. In his introduction for Dreamsongs, Volume I, Martin describes one of his first forays into the epic fantasy genre. (Remember—this was a long time before A Song of Ice and Fire.)

“Dark Gods of Kor-Yuban” I called it, and yes, my version of Mordor sounds like a brand of coffee. My heroes were the usual pair of mismatched adventurers, the melancholy exile prince R’hllor of Raugg and his boisterous, swaggering companion, Argilac the Arrogant.

And later…

In the sequel, my exile prince finds himself in the Dothrak Empire, where he joins Barron of the Bloody Blade to fight the winged demons who slew his grandsire, King Barristan the Bold.

If you’ve read A Song of Ice and Fire, then you probably recognize the names R’hllor, Argilac the Arrogant, Barristan the Bold, and the Dothrak Empire. All those names reappear in his series!

So what does it take to make a great story idea? It takes hard work, deep thought, and perseverance. Truth is, ideas don’t always come to us—sometimes, we need to go find them.

Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his fiancee and their two cats. His stories have appeared in numerous online magazines, including Allegory, Chantwood, and Dark Fire Fiction. To stay current with Kyle’s work, subscribe to his email newsletter. He promises not to spam you.

Enter Late, Leave Early

April 2, 2018 /

No, the title of this post is not a reference to party etiquette. Rather, it’s a writing principle you might’ve heard before. When composing a scene, it’s often best to begin that scene as late as possible, then end it as early as possible.

Want to bring this concept to your own writing? Here are some thoughts on how to do it.

Entering Late

Dialogue should sound like real people talking, but only to a certain extent. One of my professors described good dialogue as, “The way people would talk if they had time to think of the perfect words.” This makes perfect sense to me. Because if our dialgoue sounds exactly like everyday speech, we’re going to get an annoyingly high percentage of “ums,” “uhs,” and “you knows.”

Now how does entering late/leaving early apply to writing fiction? Well, just think of all the pleasantries we exchange at the beginning and end of most conversations. They’re perfectly acceptable in a casual chat—less so in fiction. For example…

“Hey Marcel, how you doing?”

“Craig, what’s up, man? I’m doing alright. Yourself?”

“Good man, good. Just watching some X-Files. You busy right now?”

“I can talk for a second. What’s up?”

“Well, I uh, I heard the bad news. That’s tough man. People gotta stay off their cell phones when they drive.”

There. We finally arrived at the subject of Marcel and Craig’s discussion: a car accident. Problem is, we entered this conversation too late; the first four lines of dialogue really don’t do anything relevant (although one has to wonder what X-Files episode Craig is watching).

Here’s what it might look like if we start the conversation a bit later:

“Hello?”

“Tell me it isn’t totaled.”

“Hey Craig. Haven’t heard from the auto shop yet. Fingers crossed.”

Since we entered the scene later, we’re thrown right into the action. No messing around with inane chatter at the beginning. This leads to better scenes, better dialogue, and better stories.

Leaving Early

When you reach the end of an article, do you skip over the conclusion? Writing a scene is no different. Once you’ve made your point, people are less interested in anything that comes after. As writers, we should strive to end our scenes before that happens. Here’s another example using the characters from the previous scene:

“I’m just lucky to be alive.”

“Totally Marcel, totally. It was like a super bad wreck. But hey, you’re here now, and that’s what matters.”

“You said it, man.”

“Well, I better get going. The smoking dude just showed up.”

“Oh snap. Alright, later Craig.”

“See ya, Marcel.”

Though I haven’t written the whole scene, let’s presume Marcel and Craig have been discussing the accident. When we leave conversations too late, characters tend to restate what’s been said before. It’s super boring. This scene probably should’ve ended after that first sentence.

And another thing: I mentioned this in a previous post about line breaks, but I think it deserves repeating here. Statements are most profound when they come before a break. So the final sentence before your scene ends should be a good one. Which sounds better to you: “I’m just lucky to be alive,” or “See ya, Marcel”? The answer’s pretty clear.

Conclusion

In an effort to follow my own advice, I’m going to keep things short. Enter late, leave early. You’ll love the results.

Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his fiancee and their two cats. His stories have appeared in numerous online magazines, including Allegory, Chantwood, and Dark Fire Fiction. To stay current with Kyle’s work, subscribe to his email newsletter. He promises not to spam you.

Originality is Overrated

March 26, 2018 /

There, I said it. This is a thought I’ve had for a while now, though it’s been difficult to find the right words to express it. I hope I’ve found them here.

As writers, the works of other writers are equal parts inspiration and limitation. Stephen King might inspire you to become a horror writer, yet you might avoid writing a novel set in a haunted hotel. That would be too much like The Shining, right? It wouldn’t be original.

You know what? Screw originality. Write what you want!

So many writers decide not to pursue ideas simply because they believe it’s already been done. But so what? If your idea’s been done before, do it differently. Do it better. Do it with that personal touch only you can provide.

I’ll give you an example. One of my best friends told me he always had this idea for a story. You know the theory that humans only use a small percentage of their brain power? In my friend’s story, he imagined a character who takes experimental drugs which grant him access to the rest of his brain. This character develops hyper intelligence and extrasensory perception.

However, my friend told me he’d never write this story. Why? Because of the film Limitless. If you haven’t seen it, it’s almost exactly the same idea my friend had.

Hearing this really bummed me out. My friend was so excited about this story, yet the film killed his dream of writing it. I’m sure you’ve observed (or even personally experienced) a similar phenomenon.

Want my opinion (even though it’s not entirely original)? A similar existing work should never, ever stop you from working on a great idea.

The film Limitless, by the way, is based on a novel called The Dark Fields by Alan Glynn. But did you know that Ted Chiang published a similar story a decade earlier entitled Understand? His was also about a normal guy who took a drug that granted supernatural intelligence. And if we go back even further to 1959, we’ll find Daniel Keyes’s Flowers for Algernon, yet another story about a scientifically sharpened intellect.

Though the methods and general mechanics might vary from story to story, each bears a core similarity to the others. I don’t necessarily agree with those who claim there are no original ideas. I just think writers can always find ways to take existing ideas and make them their own.

We see this all the time in fiction. People say dragons are overdone in fantasy, yet George R.R. Martin writes A Song of Ice and Fire and suddenly they’re resurrected. People say you can’t do anything original with zombies anymore, and then The Girl with All the Gifts becomes a hit.

Don’t let an existing story preclude you from writing something amazing. If your idea is similar to another, make it your own. Put your personal spin on it. Most important of all, write it.

Originality is overrated. But individual creativity—now that’s something to strive for.

Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his fiancee and their two cats. His stories have appeared in numerous online magazines, including Allegory, Chantwood, and Dark Fire Fiction. To stay current with Kyle’s work, subscribe to his email newsletter. He promises not to spam you.

Should You Lie to Your Fellow Writers?

March 12, 2018 /

Imagine this. You just read a fellow writer’s work. Maybe this is a friend, a member of your writer’s group, a classmate. Whoever it is, you read their writing with the objective of giving them honest feedback.

One problem: you hated the piece you just read.

Okay, I know Mom always said hate is a strong word. But this is going to happen. Even if your fellow writers are very talented, you’re unlikely to enjoy their each and every work. Our preferences and interests don’t always line up with everyone else’s. At any rate, you’ve just read a piece you didn’t particularly care for. And now you’ve got to give feedback on it.

Now what? Should you tell your fellow writer the truth? That you think what they wrote just wasn’t very good? Or worse, that you thought it was plain bad?

You will almost certainly have these thoughts about other people’s writing. When you do, I strongly believe you should simply lie to your fellow writers.

As we all know, writing is a pain in the ass. It takes years to get good at, and even then there’s always something left to improve upon. It’s a process of drafts, revisions, meticulous editing, feedback collection, then repetition. Writing is hard. It requires a constant stream of dedication and positivity.

So when a reader reviews a written work in a preliminary stage and tells the author they hated it, such negative feedback can destroy the author’s confidence. It’s these kinds of comments that make writers quit on their projects, completely restructure their work, or say to themselves, “I guess I’ll never be a very good author.” There is, after all, such a thing as being too honest.

The basic gist: If our objective is to help a fellow writer get better at writing, sometimes it’s necessary to lie.

I’m not advocating an “It’s perfect!” approach, whereby authors simply pat each other on the back at every turn, pretending everything’s amazing and every page is publishable. This kind of attitude won’t help anyone achieve their potential. Rather, I’m advocating a balanced approach. If you can’t find anything you like about a particular piece, make something up. There are glimmers of success to be found in all writing, no matter how much we dislike it.

Also, I want to make it clear that I’m talking about writing in its preliminary stages here, not finished writing. If you read a published book and hate it, you’re certainly entitled to share your opinion. But a published book is finished, and therefore open to any kind of feedback, negative or otherwise. (Just try to be respectful.)

On the other hand, for unfinished manuscripts and the people working on them, one-star ratings are useless. In the nascent stages of development, writers need equal amounts of praise and constructive criticism. It helps us stay motivated and finish projects.

Yes, all comments on a work in progress should be constructive in nature. Simply saying, “I didn’t like it” does nothing to help a writer improve their work. The best readers offer solutions rather than only point out problems.

For example, imagine you just read a really bad manuscript. Here’s an example of some honest, yet constructive feedback you might provide:

I think this piece has a lot of potential. One place where I think you could concentrate additional time is on your protagonist. I don’t dislike her, but I don’t really like her, either. In this draft, she’s just sort of there. I have a very hard time connecting with her, I think because I don’t know enough about her. If you provide additional details into her past which explain why she behaves the way she does, I think it might be easier to identify with her.

Here we’ve started on a positive: “I think this piece has a lot of potential.” We’re acknowledging that the piece isn’t quite there yet, but that it can get there with the proper improvements. It’s also useful to start on a positive note because we writers are often sensitive folk. We want people to like our writing!

Next, we delve into specifics rather than generalities. Even if the entire piece really is a prolonged snore, lie to the author. Get specific about the boringness. Here we’ve highlighted an important element: the main character. Notice that we didn’t just write, “I don’t like her.” We’re communicating exactly what we think isn’t working. In our opinion, we don’t know enough about her. And then, finally, we offer a solution to the specific problem we’ve identified.

This is where we should be totally honest. Remember, the primary reason an author asks you to read their work is so they can make it better. Your general opinions on the quality of the work are often secondary. Because the truth is, first drafts are always bad. Writers know this. They just want to make them better.

So if a writer you know asks for feedback on a draft and you simply hate that draft, lie to them. Find something, anything you think they did right. Identify specific points where they can improve, rather than making sweeping, and ultimately unhelpful, negative statements.

Think of it as a fib if you have to. It’ll help your fellow writers very much.

Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his fiancee and their two cats. His stories have appeared in numerous online magazines, including Allegory, Chantwood, and Dark Fire Fiction. To stay current with Kyle’s work, subscribe to his email newsletter. He promises not to spam you.

Are You Forgetting Your Setting?

February 26, 2018 /

I’d like to share a brief scene with you. Here goes:

“Life,” said Silver, “is a collection of unrealized dreams.”

Tia groaned. “Well that’s uplifting.”

“My profound apologies.”

That was something Tia noticed about Silver in the short time she’d known him—he had his own way of saying everything. “Many pardons,” instead of “excuse me.” “Energetically insufficient” instead of “tired.” “Inventively predisposed” instead of “creative.” Or, in this case, “my profound apologies” instead of “sorry.” He never uttered the words with irony, either. It was just how he spoke.

“Silver,” she said. “People enjoy your movies. So maybe you don’t need to care what critics and reviewers and whoever say. Right?”

“Critics and reviewers are gravity. I am but a rock bound to Earth.”

It took a great deal of Tia’s willpower not to scream. “Silver. I know we haven’t known each other long. But this depressive artist thing. It’s a little much.”

I think this is a decent start to a story. We’ve got two fairly well-developed characters with distinct voices. We’ve got hints of conflict. We’ve even got the seeds of a story emerging.

So sure, it’s a fine start. But where’s the setting?

Remember the scene in The Matrix when they’re standing in a totally white space? That’s basically what I have here. No explanation of where we are, no details about the area within which these characters speak. Just Tia, Silver, and their dialogue. I’ve done it before, and I’ve read other manuscripts with the same issue.

As writers, sometimes we place so much focus on character and plot that we forget about setting. Big mistake. Setting is an essential element of any great story. To paraphrase a professor of mine, settings should be written such that one’s story cannot exist in any other surrounding.

So how do we make sure we don’t forget our setting? Here are some thoughts.

Incorporate Your Setting Into the Action

This method works wonders. Take our introductory scene, for instance. Let’s see what happens when we insert the setting into the conversation.

“Life,” said Silver, “is a collection of unrealized dreams.”

Tia groaned. “Well that’s uplifting.”

They huddled in a room too small for two people, a single flickering bulb serving as their only source of light. The smell of dust and some chemical aroma (Silver’s cologne, perhaps?) seemed to crowd the space further. Tia wasn’t sure how long she could stand it.

I like this version better already. As readers, we can visualize the conversation now that we’ve filled in the surroundings. Additionally, the setting description adds context to the scene: Tia is uncomfortable, Silver wears Axe body spray.

Draw from Personal Experience

This principle works for most aspects of writing, but it’s especially useful for writing settings. That’s because so much of a setting is based on sensory detail, so it oftentimes helps to write about a place that you’ve been before.

Take the ocean, for instance. You might describe the smell of it, the feel of the sand between your toes, the sound of the gulls overhead. Make sure your audience feels like they can visualize and imagine themselves within the space.

If you’re writing alternate-world fantasy, this task becomes a bit trickier. Still, you can do it. Even if your story takes place in a world you’ve never visited and never will, you can still draw on personal experience. Think back to the time you went hiking through the mountains, took a trip to Death Valley, or went cave diving. These experiences can inform your settings, even those of an alternate world.

Imagine Your Setting as a Character

This is my personal favorite method of building a good setting. Imagine all the care and thought you put into your characters. Now apply those same principles toward your setting.

For example, your setting, just like your characters, has little quirks and oddities that no other setting has. Use those. A good setting, like good characters, help to progress the story further.

Give these tips a try and see what happens. And make sure not to forget that setting!

Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his fiancee and their two cats. His stories have appeared in numerous online magazines, including Allegory, Chantwood, and Dark Fire Fiction. To stay current with Kyle’s work, subscribe to his email newsletter. He promises not to spam you.

The Gunslinger

The Gunslinger and Character Backstory

February 19, 2018 /

The Gunslinger

When writing characters, where do you start? Maybe a name, or a physical description, or some basic personality traits. Before long you’ll probably wonder how your character got the way he or she is now. Which is why it’s important for the story to start before it actually starts, if you get my meaning. That means character backstory.

Take, for example, Roland Deschain from Stephen King’s The Gunslinger. He’s a sombre, soft-spoken, mysterious type, and you probably would be too if you had a childhood like his—Roland’s mom was sleeping with his dad’s top advisor, for god’s sake. In fact, Roland’s past is so important to his present that we need to see it up close and personal. That means backstory.

But offering details on a character’s background is tricky. Constant flashbacks interrupt the flow of a progressing story, and dropping little details into the narrative can sometimes come across as expository. For example, Character A says, “Remember when you had more fingers?” Character B frowns and says, “Sure. I’ll never look at blenders the same way again.”

Of course these characters remember that moment. In fact, the only thing a writer does by including this exchange is tell reader exactly what’s going on. Which is about as subtle as a slap to the face.

King, however, handles the backstory of The Gunslinger perfectly. It’s a novel that’s very much about the past, a novel where each character is shaped and motivated by events which happened long before. These events are so important, in fact, that it won’t suffice to reference them through dialogue or brief description. So here’s what King does, and does very well: He references characters we’ve never met before, then explains who those characters are in subsequent flashbacks.

For example, a boy from New York City named Jake Chambers suddenly appears in the Roland’s world without explanation. Jake tells Roland that he can’t remember anything about how he got there, so we’re left to wonder. That, however, would be quite the fraying loose end. So King gives us a brief flashback.

Fortunately, it’s not just a flashback for the sake of a flashback. We learn two very important details from it: One, that Jake died before coming to the gunslinger’s world, and that is perhaps why he’s there. And two, that Jake was somehow sent there by the man in black, who is the gunslinger’s arch nemesis (excuse the lack of actual names—it’s all about the mystery, baby).

I’m drawn to this aspect of King’s novel because I struggle a lot with character backstory in my writing. It’s hard to know what to give and when to give it, but it’s a skill that can be developed through practice and careful study of the pros.

Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his fiancee and their two cats. His stories have appeared in numerous online magazines, including Allegory, Chantwood, and Dark Fire Fiction. To stay current with Kyle’s work, subscribe to his email newsletter. He promises not to spam you.

Working With Beta Readers

January 22, 2018 /

You’ve finished your manuscript. You’ve read it over countless times. You’re ready to share it. Time to sound the Horn of Gondor and call to the world, “Beta readers, assemble!”

…Or not. This isn’t Lord of the Rings or anything. Getting beta readers is a challenge, yes, but it’s one you can achieve (and you don’t have to be a Gondorian ruler to do it). Here are some steps you might want to try.

1. Find Your Readers

This step is simpler than some might think. Just gather a mix of viewpoints: writers and non-writers, readers and non-readers, genre fans and non-genre fans. Gathering a variety of opinions helps you cast a wide net over any potential issues. And that, of course, is the whole point of the exercise.

For my recently completed novella manuscript (which I hope to have published soon, so stay tuned), I asked pretty much everyone I know. That included my fiancee, my parents, and most of my writer’s group. Don’t stress out over who you ask and don’t ask. Just get as many people as you can.

2. Ask Specific Questions

Offering actionable feedback is already tricky. Offering actionable feedback on an entire manuscript? Now that’s a tall order. So do your beta readers a solid and include guiding questions.

Some examples: Does the protagonist have a satisfying character arc? Does the setting feel authentic? What do you think of the dialogue between characters A and B in chapter four? I find it works best to include these at the end of the manuscript rather than upfront, just so I don’t shape readers’ opinions too much. However, where you place your questions is completely up to you.

Likewise, it’s helpful to mention what you’re not looking for as well. For example, one member of my writer’s group sometimes mentions when he’s not going to make huge structural changes. Feel free to do the same. If you love your story the way it is and aren’t going to change that shocking plot twist, let folks know ahead of time. It’ll save them (and you) the added effort.

3. Collect Your Comments

This one takes a while. I’ve done it on a smaller scale for short stories, though not yet for my novella, since I’m still waiting to hear back from everyone. That said, you don’t necessarily need complete feedback before starting this step. For example, one of my beta readers mentioned that Cadillacs don’t have hubcaps. In my novella, I make specific mention to a Cadillac with a hubcap. I don’t need further input on that one.

Important: You don’t need to make every change your beta readers suggest. Ponder their comments. If you agree with them, then make the changes. If you like things the way they are, kindly ignore those suggestions. Be careful, though. If you love your character’s elongated opening monologue yet every single beta reader hates it, you might have a legitimate problem.

Ultimately, this is your story and you’re putting in the work. Do what you think is best.

4. Make the Changes!

Once you know what changes you’re going to make, make them! This part can take a long time, but it’s certainly worth it. Also, remember that this is one of the last steps before sending your story to editors, agents, or what have you. How cool is that?

5. Pat Yourself (and Your Beta Readers) on the Back

Make sure to thank everyone who offered feedback. Enjoy your sweet new draft!

Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York. His stories have appeared in numerous online magazines, including Allegory, Chantwood, and Dark Fire Fiction. To stay current with Kyle’s work, subscribe to his email newsletter. He promises not to spam you.

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