Category: Writing (Page 8 of 12)

The Perks of Keeping a Notebook

Ideas are the fuel that keep writers going. Without them, we find ourselves with an empty tank on the side of the road.

Notebooks are great at refueling that creative need. Here’s why you’ll love having one:

Record What Inspires You

Everyone has ideas every day. Ideas for businesses, solutions to problems at work, new ways to reconfigure the living room furniture—ideas are everywhere.

Notebooks

The thing is, ideas tend to flutter away in the wind if you let them. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had a cool story while drifting off to sleep, only to awaken having completely forgotten it.

That’s what your notebook is for. At the very least, it preserves your ideas. At best, your notebook will provide you inspiration when you need it most.

Take Your Notebook Everywhere

What kind of notebook should you get? A small one. Your notebook is for snippets, not entire stories. Get something light, portable, and pastel (that last part is optional).

Every idea you have, no matter how inconsequential, should go into your notebook. When you think of something, write it down. When you hear a turn of phrase you enjoy, write it down. If you hear a name that might go well on that protagonist you’re working on, write it down. You never know what might inspire you a week, a year, or even decades later.

Whatever you do, make sure your notebook is portable. It’s important to keep it on-hand at all times, so you never miss an idea.

Refer Back to Your Ideas When You Need Them Most

I woke up the other day to do some writing and found that I had nothing to write about. Really, I couldn’t think of a thing. So, I turned to my notebook. I found the following line, which I’d written on December 19th, 2012: “The Prince of Darkness is a gentleman.”

That’s a line from William Shakespeare’s King Lear. I don’t think he was referring to Ozzy Osbourne there, but whatever. It’s a cool line, and it helped inspire an entire short story.

Your notebook is only as powerful as you make it. Take it with you wherever you go; give it your thoughts and interests. And next time you find yourself out of creative fuel, refer back to it. You never know where those ideas might take you.


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

“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

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?

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 Spacekeep 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 IMartin 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

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

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 LimitlessIf 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 UnderstandHis 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 Algernonyet 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?

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.

Working With Beta Readers

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.

Raising the Stakes

There’s a reason preseason football games are dull, and it’s not just because we’re compelled to watch backups play for three quarters (sorry backups). It’s because they have no stakes.

Now consider the Super Bowl, a game which has the highest stakes in American professional sports. Winning that game means everything. Losing it could be the biggest disappointment in an otherwise outstanding career. (The Super Bowl is also made greater by the weird Doritos commercials, but that’s neither here nor there.)

As writers, we should write stories about the Super Bowl, not the preseason. That’s because stories are often at their best when everything’s on the line. The question is, how do we do it?

Let’s start with The Fellowship of the Ring. The story begins without any stakes (unless you’re particularly concerned about the success of Bilbo’s birthday party). However, we soon discover that Bilbo’s magic ring is actually the One Ring, the most evil artifact in Middle-Earth. Now we understand the stakes: If Sauron gets his Ring back, Middle-Earth is screwed. And when Frodo volunteers to take the Ring, he raises the stakes even further. That’s because at this point, we like Frodo. If he fails, he dies, and then we’re very sad.

Takeaway: Raise the stakes incrementally. Each successive event should provide more to lose and more to gain.

The trick is learning to raise the stakes by showing rather than telling. For example, imagine a character in a book says, “Dude. The stakes have never been greater.” No no no. Too heavy handed.

What’s a good way to suggest stakes rather than outright say them? Kill some characters. The great J.K. Rowling did so zealously in Harry Potterstarting with The Goblet of Fire. When Cedric Diggory died in this book, the stakes were clear: If you mess with Voldemort, you die. Such stakes had never before existed in the series.

It’s difficult, but raising the stakes can breathe new life into our stories. I’m still working on it. I think it helps to ask yourself some questions before sitting down to write. For example: What does my character’s quest mean to him or her? What happens if my character fails? What’s motivating my character to succeed?

We want to show the answers to these questions without telling. If readers have a clear picture of the stakes in their minds, they’ll better understand the gravity of every situation.

So let’s skip the preseason and play for the Super Bowl. Raise those stakes!


Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living in New York (upstate, not the city). 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 monthly email newsletter. He promises not to spam you.

Setting Writing Resolutions for 2018

Writing

It’s tough getting anywhere without first setting a destination. And with 2018 on the horizon, now’s a great time for us writers to think about where we want to go in the new year. Here are some goal-setting tips that have worked for me. Hope they do the same for you!

Identify the Steps to Your Destination

Define everything between your current location and your ultimate destination. For example, my goal for this year is to publish my first novel. I’ve outlined my steps as follows:

  1. Complete a first draft.
  2. Delude myself into thinking I got everything right on the first try.
  3. Get realistic and re-read the draft. Make tons of edits.
  4. Share the draft with beta readers.
  5. Make more edits.
  6. Repeat step five.
  7. Repeat step five again.
  8. Publish.

I’m on step four with my current manuscript, which is farther than I’ve got with anything. There’s still lots to go, but I’m more confident in my process now that I’ve broken things down.

Try doing the same. No one jumps from step one to step eight without accomplishing everything in between.

Be Realistic With Your Goals

To paraphrase Freddie Mercury, sometimes we want it all, and we want it now. This mentality tends to produce unrealistic goals, which can be damaging to our fragile egos.

For example, let’s say my goal for 2018 is to publish not one novel, but three. I haven’t published any, so what makes me think I can do three in twelve months? Seems unrealistic.

Bottom line: Don’t set goals for yourself that you can’t achieve. This leads to frustration and a false notion that you aren’t doing enough. Set your goals high, but don’t commit to the impossible.

Don’t Get Competitive

Confession: Magic: The Gathering has made me competitive. So when the talented people in my writer’s group do something awesome, I secretly want to do the same.

When setting your writing goals for 2018, be introspective. Commit to your goals based on what you can do, not what others around you are doing. Just because Stephen King publishes two novels a year doesn’t mean you need to do the same. Your writing is about you, and no one else.

I hope these thoughts will help develop your writing goals for 2018. Enjoy your year!

Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living in New York (upstate, not the city). His stories have appeared in numerous online magazines, including Allegory, Five on the Fifth, and Dark Fire Fiction. To read more of Kyle’s work, subscribe to his monthly email newsletter. He promises not to spam you.

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