Tag: fiction writing

“If Pages Could Blush”: The Story Behind the Story

December 19, 2022 / Kyle A. Massa

If Pages Could Blush

This story began in my car. Well, it technically began with an anthology. But not the anthology you’ll read it in.

You know what? Let’s back up a bit. There’s a story behind every story, and today, I’d like to tell you the tale of my latest.

It’s Called “If Pages Could Blush”

…And it appears in Unidentified Funny Objects 9, an anthology edited by Alex Shvartsman. We’ve also got stories from Jane Espenson, Lavie Tidhar, and Simon R. Green, amongst many other talented writers.

My story takes place in a library where the books are sentient. One of those books—the infamous Necronomicon—escapes from its section, no doubt for nefarious purposes. Now it’s up to Augustus Fluff, bumbling librarian’s apprentice, to apprehend the escapee.

How It Started

As I mentioned, “If Pages Could Blush” (we’ll call it “IPCB” from now on) began with an anthology. The theme? Send a story about books.

I had a few ideas. I drafted a tale where someone procures a forbidden book from an underground bookshop, then another about a book that transports readers to an alternate world (literally). After my usual trial-and-error cycle, I settled on a concept I liked: A book gets loose in a library.

The First Draft

Here’s the part about writing the story in my car. In the fall of 2021, during my work commute (shoutout to Special Olympics New York), I decided I’d do something besides listen to Limited Resources.

In the writer world, you hear legends of people who pen 4 or 5k words per day using the magic of dictation. Being the copycat that I am, I tried the same, starting with my escaped-book story. Here’s the first line of my first draft:

“A book was missing.”

Not the most riveting stuff. Also, according to my Google Doc, I began writing on October 14 at 8:35am, meaning I was late to work. For shame!

Things got better from there. My main character was a librarian who owned his own set of sentient books. When one escaped, he went on a quest to find it. However, as I wrote, the librarian became increasingly incompetent. His adventure took on a farcical tone because he was so flustered about the whole situation. So, I morphed my MC into an apprentice rather than a master.

Subsequent Drafts

In my next version, the Master Librarian established the rules of the world in the first scene (yes, she’s known as “The Master Librarian,” even in the final draft). My new main character, the Master Librarian’s bumbling apprentice, was named Augustus Gulp. I liked the name because it was contradictory: “Augustus” is an emperor’s title, yet “gulp” is the sound you make when you’re in trouble.

However, my writers’ group caught something. The name sounded awfully similar to Augustus Gloop, that gluttonous ginger kid from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Not a bad association, but not one I wanted, either. After a few days’ deliberation, “Gulp” became “Fluff.”

At the suggestion of both Sara and my writers’ group, I cut the opening scene with the Master Librarian, preferring instead to launch directly into the story. I tightened said story, too, adding references to my favorite books and clarifying the trail of clues leading to the denouement. The deadline for the anthology was January 31, 2022. I worked diligently to hit it.

(When I say “diligently,” I mean squeezing it in between games of Magic: The Gathering and reading sessions of Shakespeare’s Othello, which Goodreads tells me I was reading at the time. Justice for Desdemona.)

Anywho, eventually I finished “If Pages Could Blush”—or at least finished it enough to submit.

The Anthology

I use a handy little site called Duotrope to track my writing submissions. That’s how I know that, on January 31, 2022, I sent “IPCB” to the anthology. On March 24, I received a response that can be summed up in two words:

No thanks.

That one hurt. I’m used to rejections, as evidenced by my 115 submissions since 2013, with a rejection percentage of 85.8. Like baseball, a high-failure rate is part of the game.

Yet this proverbial strikeout stung more than the others. Why? Because I’d written the piece specifically for the market. It was like crafting the perfect gift for your Secret Santa, then watching them set it ablaze with a flamethrower.

Okay, that was melodramatic. But still, it was a bummer.

Furthermore, I thought “If Pages Could Blush” was pretty darn good. The concept was fun, the mystery felt satisfying to me, and early readers seemed to find it amusing. So what was wrong with it?

Nothing? Everything? The answers in art are never that clear.

A Brief Aside

You may not know this, but I once volunteered as a first reader for Grimdark Magazine. In that role, I read stuff.

…And then offered thoughtful feedback to the editor. But really, the position was well-named, because it was all reading.

Most of what I read was strong, yet little of it made the final mag. Why? Limited space in the issue. Topic too similar to previous stories. Elements that didn’t align with our theme.

In other words, there’s more to publishing than quality. Not to say quality isn’t the most important factor in any artistic endeavor—it’s just that those other, less visible details matter, too.

This is a long way of rationalizing my rejection. It’s how I convinced myself to continue submitting.

The Next Few Months

In May, I sent “IPCB” to three pro-paying markets. I received a one-day rejection, a 38-day rejection, and a shortlisting. Feeling encouraged by that last one, I submitted my story for the fifth (and, as it would turn out) final time.

I’d never read Unidentified Funny Objects before, but I’d heard of it. It’s one of the few pro-paying humorous fantasy/sci-fi markets around (professional payment being defined by Duotrope as “5 US cents per word and up”). UFO has also published stories by two of my literary heroes, Neil Gaiman and George R.R. Martin, so that was a definite draw.

Three days later, I received notice that “IPCB” was being held for final consideration. And, on September 24, 2022, my story was accepted.

Provisionally. (Dun dun DUN!)

The Edits

Alex Shvartsman, the aforementioned series editor, responded with the news. He said he’d be happy to accept my story, provided we agree on some changes.

To preserve editorial integrity, I won’t disclose those changes. (I’m new to this, so I’m honestly unsure if sharing would be considered tacky.) Suffice it to say there were four suggestions, and they all improved the piece.

After those edits came a round of copy edits, then signing the contract in blood (JK, it was a BIC). Then, finally, “If Pages Could Blush” became an official inclusion in UFO9. You can read a copy yourself.

The Takeaways

Prior to this, I’d only ever sold a single short story; those of you who’ve read Monsters at Dusk will remember it. It’s called “Thespian: A Tale of Tragedy and Redemption in Three Acts,” and Allegory gave me a cool $20 for it.

I don’t write for money. Yet still, someday I want to make a living off this writing thing. And earning 20 times what I had before? That felt pretty good.

Go Catch Your Copy Before It Escapes!

If you’ve made it this far, then why not read the story this entire story’s been about? Go grab your copy of Unidentified Funny Objects 9 on Kindle or paperback! I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

Kyle A. Massa is a comic fantasy author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife, their daughter, and three wild animals. His published works include three books and several short stories. When he’s not writing, he enjoys reading, running, and drinking coffee.

The Anatomy of a Line Break

March 25, 2019 / Kyle A. Massa

Writers can do a lot with a line break.

Whether it looks like the one above or the one below…

…the line break is a fantastic tool for writers. I’ll admit, I think I have more fondness for it than the average person does. Truth be told, I might use it too much. But no matter—today, I’d like to share my love of the line break with you. Let’s get started.

Line Breaks Suggest A Narrative Shift

In my fiction, some of my weakest writing comes when I’m trying to get my characters from one setting to another. I often find myself over-describing their form of transit, or what they saw during their journey, however brief. It’s rarely important to the story I’m trying to tell and often ends up feeling boring.

That’s why I love the line break. It’s an elegant way to suggest this idea: “Hey reader. We’ve shifted settings.” It cuts down on extraneous words and boring scenes. If a transition scene is a long, windy road through the mountains, think of a line break as a shortcut.

In addition, line breaks are an excellent way to signal point of view shifts, particularly within a chapter of a novel. There’s no better way to write from multiple characters’ points of view without cutting your chapters short.

Line Breaks Suggest a Passage of Time

When jumping from one scene to the next, adding a line break is an excellent way to show that there’s been a slight passage of time since the last event. Just make sure it’s slight.

Are you jumping ahead a few minutes into the next scene? By all means, use a line break. Are you jumping ten years into the future? You probably need something a bit more obvious.

In other words, line breaks are excellent for signaling relatively brief shifts into the future. Less so when we’re talking dramatic leaps forward.

Line Breaks Provide Heavier Meaning to Parting Words

Let’s say you’ve got a profound piece of dialogue floating around in your head. Where should you place it for the optimal impact? I’d suggest just before a line break.

Words often gain greater emphasis when they come at the conclusion of a paragraph, scene, or chapter. Recency plays a huge part in memory, so it makes sense that the last thing we read would be the most memorable.

I hope you now share my love of the line break. Try using it in your writing!

Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife and their two cats. His stories have appeared in numerous online magazines, including Allegory, Chantwood, and Dark Fire Fiction. His debut novel, Gerald Barkley Rocks, is available now on Amazon Kindle.

Is Setting the Least Important Element of Fiction?

January 21, 2019 / Kyle A. Massa

Setting

Hey, reader. Check out this Twitter poll:

An evil interdimensional being appears and demands to eat one essential element of fiction writing. Which are you offering up?
— ProWritingAid (@ProWritingAid) October 15, 2018

I work for this company. We’re called ProWritingAid and we make a super-powered editing app that helps writers improve at writing. It’s a great company, and I’m not just saying that because I work there.

Anyway, we run Twitter polls such as these every week or so. I was struck by the results of this one. Sure, we do have a limited sample size here (just 20 votes), but we still see an overwhelming majority. Many writers, it seems, prioritize character and plot over setting.

Based on my own work and the work of others, this sentiment feels accurate. Anecdotally speaking, many writers care most about Who and What—less so about Where.

So does that make setting the least important component of fiction? Maybe. But does that make it inessential? Hardly. Here’s why you can’t allow any interdimensional beings to eat your setting.

Setting Amplifies Character and Plot

In the aforementioned Twitter pole, let’s say you voted for character or plot. Good vote, voter—I probably would’ve done the same. But for most stories, setting has a profound influence on the other two elements.

I experienced this truth first-hand when writing my novel Gerald Barkley Rocks. I initially imagined the story taking place in Los Angeles, California. Julian Strange, whose death ignites the plot, is a washed-up rock-and-roll singer. His neighbor, Carmen Fowler, is a retired actress. And a significant portion of the story concerns themes of fame. Los Angeles seemed like the perfect setting.

Yet in the early drafts, I thought I might experiment with a different city. My wife and I lived in Colorado at the time, so I tried moving my story to Denver. I submitted these new chapters to my writers’ group, and the flaws were obvious: several people thought my book just wasn’t the same if it took place anywhere but Los Angeles. I ended up agreeing.

Setting supports both characters and plot. My characters are L.A. characters. My plot is an L.A. plot. If an interdimensional being devoured my setting, it wouldn’t be the same story.

Are There Exceptions?

Definitely. For example, I recently read Salman Rushdie’s Two Years, Eight Months and Twenty-Eight Nights. Yes, this book has a setting. But I’d say it takes a backseat to what happens, and who makes it happen.

This isn’t the most scientific analysis, but I must admit, I don’t remember where this story takes place. I think New York City is mentioned and the beginning takes place in the ancient Middle East, but otherwise the setting doesn’t factor into the story much at all.

The same cannot be said of the book’s characters or plot. I vividly remember characters like Ibn Rushid, Dunia, and Jimmy Kapoor. I can recall pretty much everything that happens, too. Again, not scientific, but I think it’s telling. Thin settings can be easily excused by strong characters and conflicts.

Does That Make Setting the Least Important Element of Fiction?

I think we should treat this question more as a thought experiment and less as a serious consideration. Asking which element of fiction is least important is like asking which essential bodily function is least important; if we lose any of them, we lose everything.

Still, I think this pole highlights an important lesson for all writers: don’t undervalue setting. Yes, some writers, like Salman Rushdie, can write great books with fuzzy settings. For the rest of us, setting is just as essential as ever.

See ya, evil interdimensional being. We’re keeping our setting!

Raising the Stakes

January 15, 2018 / Kyle A. Massa

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 Potter, starting 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

January 2, 2018 / Kyle A. Massa

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:

Complete a first draft.
Delude myself into thinking I got everything right on the first try.
Get realistic and re-read the draft. Make tons of edits.
Share the draft with beta readers.
Make more edits.
Repeat step five.
Repeat step five again.
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.

Unearned and Pointless: When Character Deaths Don’t Work

November 20, 2017 / Kyle A. Massa

From Amazon

In fiction, everything happens for a reason. So when characters bite the dust, the audience wants to understand why. (Unless we’re talking about someone like Joffrey Lannister. In which case, reasons need not apply.)

A film called Trick ‘r Treat got me thinking about this topic. I really enjoyed this movie. It’s a horror-comedy Halloween anthology film featuring a murderous school principal, zombie children, and a demonic trick or treater. I loved pretty much every minute of this film—except for the very first scene.

It begins with two characters: Emma and Henry. They’ve just returned from a night of trick or treating, and Emma decides to dismantle their Halloween decorations, since she knows Henry won’t do it. Henry’s kind of like, “Yeah. True.” He also points out that removing decorations before the night’s over goes against tradition. Emma does it anyway.

As she’s putting away the decorations, an unseen assailant murders her. Henry comes out later and finds Emma’s dismembered corpse in the yard. And…scene!

Okay, this is a horror movie. The mortality rate for characters in horror films is far above the national average. And, as I mentioned, I think this is an excellent film. Yet I have an issue with this scene because the character’s death feels undeserved and pointless.

First of all, when we meet Emma and Henry, Henry feels like the character more deserving of death (no offense, Henry). He’s dopey and clueless. Plus, he won’t help with the stupid decorations. Emma, on the other hand, seems like a perfectly likable character. She doesn’t do anything in the scene to make her death feel earned aside from breaking the rules of Halloween. Yet she isn’t ware of the rules (nor is the audience) until it’s too late.

Here’s the thing about character deaths: Oftentimes they should feel either earned or significant to the plot. Otherwise, they feel cheap. If the villain dies at the end, no one minds. If the main character’s best friend dies and that death has no further bearing on the plot, something’s off.

I’ve seen cheap character deaths in other films as well, and they’re just as jarring. For instance, in Jurassic World, there’s an assistant character named Zara who’s needlessly and brutally eaten by dinosaurs. It isn’t just the character’s death that’s jarring—it’s the way she dies, being dropped into the waiting jaws of a sea monster. Seems unnecessarily nasty.

As mentioned earlier, I’ll admit that genre bends this rule somewhat. We expect character to die in horror films, often in gruesome ways. This makes sense, considering the genre is all about scaring its audience.

Still, the best works of fiction, horror or not, should strive to make character deaths feel earned. Deaths are plot points, after all, so like any plot point, the preceding actions must progress toward them. If an author/filmmaker doesn’t work toward a character’s demise (whether it’s a nasty one or just a regular one), it can often feel hollow. Plus, if a perfectly innocent character gets killed in a really awful way, audiences are likely to be repelled.

Character deaths work best when they’re earned or they serve a purpose to the plot. Striking that perfect balance is a challenge, one that even experienced filmmakers and authors don’t always get right.

Okay, I’m gonna go clean up my Halloween decorations. Wish me luck.

Why You Should Try National Novel Writing Month

October 23, 2017 / Kyle A. Massa

Image courtesy of National Novel Writing Month.

National Novel Writing Month (or NaNoWriMo, as the cool kids say) is a fun time of the year. It’s a time when people come together to create their own versions of one of the greatest forms of art there is: the novel!

Have you tried it before? Are you thinking of trying it? Here are some reasons you’ll want to join National Novel Writing Month yourself.

NaNoWriMo Gives You a Hard Deadline

I explored this idea in an earlier blog post from this month, but it’s still relevant, no matter what. In my opinion, most writers need deadlines.

This might sound harsh. Still, I know a ton of talented people who could generate a ton of great work, if only they hadn’t been working on the same project for three years. I’m not trying to put anyone down for doing so; writing is your time, and you should work on whatever projects you’d like. But hey. Sometimes you’ve got to move on to the next project.

I know I need deadlines. I often review my stories numerous times, making cosmetic (and ultimately low-impact) edits. For example: shuffling commas around. This is probably not a great use of my time, and it’s why I like deadlines. At some point, I can say, “This is as good as it’s going to be.” And then move on.

NaNoWriMo Gives You a Sense of Community

Unless you dig the working in a coffee shop thing, writing might feel a little lonely. And even if you do work at Starbuck’s, baristas are unlikely to chat about your first chapter.

But during National Novel Writing Month, you’ll have an entire community to people to discuss your writing with. NaNoWriMo is one of the rare times when everyone writes crazily hard for an entire month. Yes, that’s write—ahem, sorry. That’s right.

If you’re feeling lonely, head over to the National Novel Writing Month homepage. You can register your novel there, update your progress, and chat with others who are doing the same. Writing novels is hard, so feel free to encourage your friends as they slog through theirs. They’ll do the same for you.

NaNoWriMo Helps You Improve

Being a writer is all about gradual improvement. The first novel you ever write is probably going to be hideous. That’s just how it is. The key is to improve, and continue improving.

NaNoWriMo helps you do that. It gives you an excuse to go ham on your long-form writing skills for a while. Plus, it gives you a short window to do it in. As stated above, it’s kind of like forced practice. And, it’s a better time than any to get those much-needed reps.

I’ve found that the more time I put into my writing, the better it gets. So if you try NaNoWriMo, that’s a whole month of excellent practice. Which will help you improve. Which will help you write something even better next year. Woo hoo!

Bonus: People Will Give You Mad Props

If you tell another human being that you’ve written a book, they’ll be super impressed, especially if they’re not a writer.

Give yourself a deadline. Join a community. Improve your writing. Earn street cred. National Novel Writing Month starts in a little over a week on Wednesday, November 1st. Try it out!

Developing Good Characters in Fiction

September 11, 2017 / Kyle A. Massa

Good characters aren’t stick figures. They demand more detail than lines, circles, and basic expressions.

As writers, if we want our characters to go from good to great, we’ve got to do more. It’s our job to fill in the lines, to add shading, texture, subtlety, and nuance.

It’s difficult, but that doesn’t mean we can’t do it. Here are a few good places to focus:

Voice

Giving characters distinct voices helps make them feel real. Easier said than done.

One of the best ways to find a character’s voice is writing that character constantly. You probably won’t find a character’s distinct tone the first time you write them. More likely, you’ll write them, revise them, and refine their voice over time.

A great example is George R.R. Martin’s Patchface, a weird jester who speaks in poems and riddles. For example: “Under the sea, smoke rises in bubbles, and flames burn green and blue and black. I know, I know, oh, oh, oh.” He’s mysterious, nutty, and a little creepy, with a tone all his own.

Mannerisms

Mannerisms are key to good characters. Sherlock Holmes, for example, wouldn’t be the enduring character he is without this famous line: “Elementary, my dear Watson.”

Like good dialogue, effective mannerisms suggest details about your characters. The above mannerism works because it indicates who Sherlock Holmes is: an intelligent, sophisticated, slightly patronizing fellow.

A mannerism to avoid is something like a character pushing their glasses up all the time. Though it’s a repeatable quirk, it doesn’t suggest anything about our character (other than poor vision).

Backstory

Past experiences shape us all. Characters are no different.

Try to imagine what a character’s life was like before the book begins. Take Jack Torrance, the main character of Stephen King’s classic, The Shining. A huge part of that novel is his past violence toward his son, Danny. Jack constantly tries to atone for it throughout the novel, which shapes his actions, and therefore, him.

One important detail: all this backstory need not appear in your work. Sometimes it’s best to leave it out, since heavy backstory can impede the flow of an otherwise good yarn. Still, as the writer of the story, it’s good information to have in your back pocket, since it might help inform later behaviors.

There’s tons more that goes into building great characters, but these are three of the essentials. Use them to fill in those stick figures.