Tag: writing tips (Page 2 of 3)

What To Do With a One-Star Review

June 3, 2019 /

one star review

I recently received my first one-star review. This was my reaction:

Nah, just kidding. I was pretty bummed at first, but now that I’ve had time to think about it, I have some fresh thoughts. In this post, we’ll discuss ways to make something good out of a bad review.

Write About It

…But please don’t write a scathing hit piece against the reviewer. Remember, every review is valuable, even those with one star. Instead, it might help to write a piece that helps other writers going through the same thing.

Okay, I know this sounds a little like a support group for something that isn’t that bad. It’s just a review. However, bad reviews sting, and they can be jarring blows to your confidence. So do what you do best. Write about it.

Give others tips on how to overcome their disappointment. Discuss ways to do something positive with a negative. That can help turn things around.

You might even take this one step further and use it in your next story. Every experience can contribute to fictional work, so keep this one stored away. Write about a writer who’s struggling to move on after receiving bad reviews. Or, more generally, apply this feeling to a character who’s experiencing momentary failure.

Remember That Everyone Gets Them

Really. Everyone. Here’s a review for Margaret Atwood’s latest:

Here’s another for J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, one of the most successful novels of all time:

And even the master of horror himself, Stephen King:

It’s just like mom said: You can’t please everyone. Your carefully crafted plot twist is going to be labeled predictable by some readers. Your favorite character is going to be someone else’s punching bag. Your most intricate passage is going to feel unwieldy to a less patient reader.

It’s the nature of art to be controversial. If everyone feels exactly the same way about it, then maybe it’s not doing its job well. Some of the most enduring stories are those that people argue about.

For example, consider the latest Avengers film. Without giving anything away, let’s just say that Marvel Studios made significant changes to some of its most beloved characters. Some people liked it. Some didn’t. Yet even those that didn’t are joining a conversation about the film. And that’s a good thing.

Consider the Aggregate

If I may take an example from my cardboard addiction, Magic: The Gathering, consider the aggregate. In Magic, if your goal is to win every match, you’ve set an unrealistic expectation for yourself. Even Jon Finkel, the Michael Jordan of Magic, wins only about 65 percent of his games. So if you can’t win every match, what should be your goal?

In Magic, the goal is not to win, but to increase your percentage chance of winning. The best players in the world squeeze out that additional one percent of win likelihood, which doesn’t sound like much, but really is. Over the long term, that extra one percent could be the deciding match in a championship game, or a difficult-to-navigate situation most other players would lose. Percentage points are what separate good players from the greats.

The same goes for reviews. Even if that one-star review feels like a loss, your skill will be shown in the overall record of your book. The aggregate scores will drown out some of the worse ones, and overall, you’ll find success.

Summing It Up

One-star reviews are hard to stomach in the moment. Give yourself time to be sad about them, but then move on quickly. Find something positive to do with that negative review, and then do it. It will be a huge help in the future.

Kyle A. Massa is the author of the novel Gerald Barkley Rocks and the forthcoming short story collection Monsters at Dusk. His stories have appeared in numerous online magazines, including Allegory, Chantwood, and Dark Fire Fiction. He lives somewhere in upstate New York with his wife and their two cats.

You Need To Turn Off Your Internal Salesperson

May 13, 2019 /

If you hadn’t noticed already, this is a post by Levi Jacobs. And, as I’m sure you can tell by this website’s URL, Levi Jacobs is not my name. We’re doing a guest post!

Levi is a fantasy and science fiction author I’ve known for a long time. He’s a hardworking, innovative writer and he’s neck deep in independent author marketing tactics. Without further ado, I’d like to hand it over to him. Levi, the floor is yours.

It’s an old adage in writing that you need to turn off your Internal Critic if you’re going to get anything done. Maybe that’s why the same adage-dispensers advise us to write drunk and edit sober, because booze turns off the critic (or makes him or her more entertaining, at least). And for the most part, it’s good advice. You don’t know how good something is until it’s written (which yes, means you really should finish that novel)—but that’s not what we’re here for today.

Today we’re talking about turning off the Internal Salesperson.

Salesperson? you ask. I don’t have a salesy bone in my body.

Ah—but do you want readers? Do you want somewhere in your heart of hearts to give the finger to your middle manager and boldly earn your living writing stories in your PJs?

If so, you will eventually meet your Internal Salesperson. She is the one who wakes up wondering if anyone downloaded your book, if anyone read pages (this extra torture reserved for those of us with books in Kindle Unlimited, meaning we can see daily how many pages of each book the world has read). And she is the one who will say, tugging at her checkered and elbow-patched jacket, that there is really no point in writing today, since no one’s reading your stuff.

Now if you happen to be selling gangbusters, perhaps you can ignore this advice. Maybe you want, in fact, to turn on your Internal Salesperson (you’ll have to find out what he’s into). But likely even for you, oh Gangbusters-Selling Author, there will come a day when you load up your sales dashboard to find a much lower number than you or your Internal Salesperson hoped for. Maybe even a zero.

And for many of us, that zero has a pernicious way of translating into our word count for the day. Of unlocking the closet in which we have stuck our Editor for those few precious hours that we get to tell stories, and we all three stare at a blank page, saying, “Well no one’s going to read it anyway—they haven’t even read book one,” and, “This is obviously garbage—remember how much we revised Book One? And still no one’s reading it,” and maybe even, “Do you think our middle manager took that middle finger the wrong way? Maybe we could send him a nice email, see if he’s got any work around.”

No, friends, the Internal Salesperson is not your friend. She’s either inflating your ego to the point the Internal Editor can’t get a word in edgewise, or they’re piggybacking on each other to make sure you feel too dismal about your hopes as an author to actually do the work of authors, which is writing, of course.

So what to do? Turn the Salesperson off of course.

Easier said than done, because sales are the best estimation we have for how many people are reading our books, and most of us authorly types are very interested in people reading our books, and smartphones make it oh-so easy to check how many people have purchased said books, and the tab is right there on your computer as you sit down to write. And the minute you click that tab, the Salesperson wakes up, and he is sure to have an opinion. And you haven’t even had your coffee yet.

So, some strategies:

One: Set your expectations low. Set them at zero, in fact. Then, if you’ve had five pages read today, why, that’s five pages more than you were expecting! If someone’s bought your book, the Salesperson is sure to be pleased! Meditate on that fact deeply: you are getting read. You’re doing it. Then go happily about your words for the day.

Two: Don’t look at your sales every day. A watched pot never boils. If you’re the one in charge of running your advertisements, etc., then set a day once a week to evaluate the last seven days and make changes. But this refreshing the KDP Dashboard every 15 minutes? You’ve got to quit it.

Three: Don’t look at your sales until you’re done with words for the day. This is my approach: I get my words in, I sometimes get a little rush of joy when I see good numbers, and when the numbers aren’t stellar, my Internal Salesperson often has something useful to say.

This is his territory, you see: he has as little place in the word document as a used car salesman has at the Tesla factory. But out on the lot? The Salesperson is your man. Even if he’s not a particularly wise or informed fellow, his negativity may spur you to action (yes, you will have to tell people about your book to sell copies at first), and often he’ll have some insight about a slogan, or key word, or ad image, or salesy what-have-you that will get a few more people to read your words.

And that’s the whole point. So maybe you do need to learn how to turn on your Internal Salesperson, as well as turn her off. She has her place, as your Internal Critic does.

It’s just that most of the time, that place is locked in the closet. You run this show, not the Salesperson. Run it how you like.

Hope that helps.

Levi Jacobs is the author of the fantastical Resonant Saga, as well as the near-future science-fiction novel ACHE and the forthcoming Water of Night series. He has received the Colorado Gold award in Speculative Fiction, taken first place in The Zebulon Fiction Contest for Science Fiction, and had shorter work published in Spark: A Creative Anthology, Jungle Crows, and Perihelion SF. Hailing from North Dakota, with much of his formative years spent in Japan and Uganda, Levi has an MA in Cultural Anthropology and sells fruit in the oil fields to make a living. Learn more at www.levijacobs.com.

The Anatomy of a Line Break

March 25, 2019 /

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.

The Grand “Finish It!” Initiative

March 18, 2019 /

Finish It!

I’ve noticed a trend in my short stories. Many of my drafts have no endings!

Let’s back up a moment. I’m releasing a short story collection in June called Monsters at Dusk (more details coming soon). As part of the collection process, I scoured my hard drive for on-theme stories. I found a bunch. Problem is, many are unfinished.

I doubt I’m the only writer with this issue. When a story’s not working, it’s tempting to abandon it and start fresh with another. Therefore, I’ve assigned myself a new task. I call it “The Grand ‘Finish It!’ Initiative.”

The initiative is simple: I won’t allow myself to move on from a draft unless I’ve completed it first. Here’s why I’m doing it (and why you might want to do it, too).

We Need a Structure

Completed first drafts provide structure for later drafts. They’re ugly, but they’re essential.

I tend to forget this. Midway through the writing process, I sometimes think, This story isn’t that good. Truth is, I’m probably not wrong about that—detail is almost always lacking in a first draft. But first drafts aren’t final drafts. First drafts are structure. We sometimes worry too much about setting, character, and specificity in early drafts when we should focus on the underlying structure. This leads to abandonment.

That’s not to say we should blindly accept everything we write. Some pieces are experiments. Others are educational experiences. We might finish a draft and decide it doesn’t work, and that’s okay. However, it must be a finished draft before we can fairly make that determination. After all, you wouldn’t look at a sketch of a painting and decide the painting’s unworthy of your time. You can’t decide until you see the final product!

We’ll Become More Selective About What We Write

Writers often have more ideas than they’ll ever be able to write. By committing to completing every story, we’ll become more selective about the projects we take on.

This comes down to mindset. Imagine writing with this notion: If it’s not working, I’ll quit on it and move to the next project. What’s the point of being picky? You can explore any old idea just to see where it takes you.

Now imagine this mindset: I’m going to finish what I start. This approach speaks of discipline and careful selection. If we don’t allow ourselves to abandon half-finished projects, we’ll prioritize our best ideas. Doing so focuses our work and ensures we use our limited time in the best way.

Of course, there’s always room for experimentation. Furthermore, for some writers it’s impossible to tell which ideas have the greatest potential without writing them first. However, the point remains: Focus your efforts on your most powerful ideas. They’re the ones you’ll be happiest to complete.

We Need to Practice the Entire Form

Finishing a draft from start to finish allows us to practice the entire process. If we proceed to the next project without finishing the present one, we’re not getting enough practice on endings.

I consider this in terms of sports. Let’s take basketball as an example. Between dribbling, rebounding, shooting, passing, defending, and more, there are numerous skills a basketball player needs. Depending on their position, a player might excel at one skill or another. However, in order to play at a high level, a basketball player needs competency at every skill. Shaq was a bad shooter, but he at least knew the proper technique.

Likewise, an author must practice every step of a story. Sure, some authors might excel at establishing a world or surprising readers with second act twists. But if we don’t finish our work, we’ll never develop our ending skills. That’s like a modern basketball player shooting with two hands.

For an example from the literary world, look no further than fantasy author Brandon Sanderson. He wrote somewhere around 10 complete novel manuscripts before he published his first. Those 10 were full practices. If he’d decided to move on to the next before finishing the last, he might never have developed a talent for writing entire books.

Conclusion

As part of the Grand Finish-It Initiative, I’ll do my best to never proceed from a project until I’ve finished my current one. I hope you do the same!

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.

For Writers, Distractions Are Essential

March 4, 2019 /

Writing with Distractions

Distractions. They’re impossible to avoid.

This is a fact I’ve learned to live with—especially for writing time. Whether it’s my cats getting into a fight, a fantasy football injury update, or even getting up for the bathroom, it’s all the same thing: distraction. It happens to the best of us. It happens to all of us.

If you’re a writer, you might fear distraction. You might wish you could sit down and write and not be bothered until you’re done. But distraction really isn’t that bad. In fact, it can actually be helpful. Here’s why:

Imagine you’ve sat down in your favorite chair in front of your computer, your notebook, or whatever it is that you write in or on. Imagine that between your butt and that seat, there’s a layer of super glue. And between the legs of the chair and the floor, there’s more superglue. You’re literally stuck there for the day. (I suppose you could keep pulling until your pants tear, but in this hypothetical situation, you’re wearing your favorite pair of pants. Would you really do that to your favorite pair of pants?)

Doesn’t this sound horrible? I think so. But it’s what we’re doing when we vow never to be distracted—we’re gluing ourselves to our chairs, and therefore stifling our creativity without even knowing it.

Distractions boost creativity because they give us distance from our writing. We need that. When we work on the same project for too long, we eventually get tired of it. For writers, that’s especially bad because it’ll come through in our writing. If we’re bored by our own work, why should anyone else be excited by it?

Furthermore, when we step away from our writing, our unconscious mind works on it for us. That plot hole we just discovered might be filled by the time we return, without us consciously thinking about it. The mind is a powerful thing—especially when given a little rest.

But not too much rest, of course. Distractions must be used sparingly. Unless you’re a dedicated multitasker, it’s probably best not to listen to music while checking your Twitter feed while cooking dinner while also trying to write. Something bad is likely to happen.

So for writers, distractions aren’t that bad. Let’s concentrate on our work, but let’s not be afraid to step away from it every once in a while. You’ll be amazed at the results.

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 /

Setting

Hey, reader. Check out this Twitter poll:

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!

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 an Author’s Intent Irrelevant?

January 14, 2019 /

Author Intent

“I just thought he was insane.”

This is one reader’s take on the titular protagonist of my novel, Gerald Barkley Rocks. I must admit, it makes sense. After all, my protagonist interacts with a character no one else can see. And, without giving too much away, he has some pretty odd experiences, ones that can’t be confirmed by any other character. So I can see why readers might think it’s all in his head rather than actually happening. The thing is, that wasn’t my intention.

Is this a problem? If readers extract meaning that an author doesn’t intend, has the author messed up? And here’s the central question: Does an author’s intent even matter?

The Writer’s Fear

I’m reading Philip Pullman’s Daemon Voices right now and I think he addresses this topic astutely. In the essay “Intention,” Pullman describes the phenomenon like this:

“What seems to be going on here is the feeling that reading is a sort of test, which the reader passes or fails according to how closely the interpretation matches the one the author intended.”

This works the other way around, too. As writers, sometimes we want our readers interpretations to match our intent. If they differ, we might fear our writing failed a test of clarity. That’s how I felt when I first received the “I thought he was insane” feedback.

Yet Pullman addresses this topic again later in the book.

“Readers may interpret my work in any way they please…Believing as I do in the democracy of reading, I don’t like the sort of totalitarian silence that descends when there is one authoritative reading of any text.”

So is Phil right? Should I celebrate this alternative reading rather than fear it?

Yes, Phil’s Right

An author doesn’t decide what’s true. Rather, truth varies depending on who’s reading it. I didn’t intend for my protagonist to hallucinate anything, but, for any given reader, that doesn’t mean he didn’t.

Plus, unintended results are often some of the best. Take any B-movie as an example. If creator intent was absolute, these would just be bad movies. Yet if audiences choose to interpret them as comedies, they become far more enjoyable.

Take, for example, Troll 2. It’s a film about a family that moves to a small American town called Nilbog, (yes, that’s “goblin” spelled backwards). They’re terrorized by the townsfolk who turn out to be goblins disguised as humans. Yes, that’s right. A film called Troll 2 is actually about goblins.

That’s funny on its own—not that the filmmakers intended it. Rather, they named the film Troll 2 in order to mislead potential moviegoers into thinking the film was a sequel to a different (and unrelated) horror film. And that’s only the beginning. There’s also an omnipotent grandpa, a make-out scene in which popcorn is thrown onto the participants from off camera, and this famously awful line: “You can’t piss on hospitality! I won’t allow it!” All unintentional, and better for it.

I hope Gerald Barkley Rocks isn’t the Troll 2 of books, but you get the idea. All art is evaluated by interpretation. The artist presents the pieces. The reader, viewer, or listener arranges those pieces into whatever shape they like. 

Conclusion

Feel free to read Gerald Barkley Rocks and let me know your interpretation. Because my intent is irrelevant. Thanks, Phil Pullman.

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.

I Am Your Father: Making Similarities Work in Fiction

January 7, 2019 /
Darth Vader

From Wikipedia

When Darth Vader revealed he was Luke Skywalker’s father in Star Wars Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back, people lost it. It’s widely considered one of the best plot twists in film history, and for good reason. Who would’ve guessed that the protagonist was the antagonist’s son all along?

Of course, George Lucas isn’t the only person ever to use this twist. In fact, Neil Gaiman (my favorite author) uses it in his 2001 novel American Gods (my favorite book). If you haven’t read it or don’t want to be spoiled for the show, turn back now.

Still here? Okay, cool. The book’s bad guy, Mr. Wednesday, is the father of Shadow, the book’s good guy. Boom!

Now here’s my question. How does Neil Gaiman repeat such a classic plot element without having readers roll their eyes? How does he take the “I am your father” moment and make it his own? Let’s investigate.

The Buildup

In Star Wars and American Gods, the identities of Luke and Shadow’s fathers carry differing importance. In Star Wars, for instance, when Obi Wan Kenobi tells Luke that his father was a jedi, it’s a huge contributing factor toward him leaving home. He takes his father’s lightsaber, he joins his father’s order, and it’s implied that he wants to avenge his father’s death. That’s because at this point in the story, he believes Darth Vader killed his father.

In American Gods, Shadow couldn’t care less about the identity of his father. We just know that he never met his dad. That’s it. No hints at who dad was, what he did, or where he went. The man’s identity is so vague that I found myself forgetting his existence entirely. Only near the end does it become relevant.

Here we see how this differing importance sets these plot elements apart from one another. If Shadow revered his dad and accepted his quest to follow in his footsteps, these elements might feel too similar. Since he doesn’t, the respective “I am your father” moments feel distinct.

The Reveal

In Star Wars, the reveal of Darth Vader’s true identity is intensely dramatic. It’s enough to make Luke sob and then hurl himself down a space shaft. And for audiences everywhere, it’s a shock that’s still remembered today. Just check out the memes that are still being created:

In American Gods, the revelation of the antagonist being the protagonist’s father is far more understated. When he has a vision of his mother dancing with his father, his reaction to dad’s true identity isn’t nearly so dramatic as Luke’s. Here’s the passage:

“Shadow found that he was completely unsurprised when he recognized the man who dances with [his mother]. He had not changed that much in thirty-three years.”

To a certain extent, this is just Shadow. Due to his time in prison, he’s learned to suppress his emotion. Yet this muted response also differentiates the revelation from that of Star Wars. Shadow doesn’t deny the truth. Instead, he accepts it. In fact, he already suspected it.

The Payoff

Once we know who these characters’ fathers really are, the ramifications on the subsequent story are much different. At the end of Empire Strikes Back, for instance, Luke is in disbelief over what he’s learned. Then, in the following film, his goal is no longer to defeat Vader. Instead, he seeks to redeem him.

In American Gods, Shadow’s father’s identity is more thematic than anything else. Shadow finds out who Mr. Wednesday is roughly around the same time he discovers Wednesday’s plot to sacrifice a bunch of gods to himself, thereby resurrecting himself.  (Simple plan, right?) There’s no moment of, “Gee, I’d better redeem my dad.” In fact, Wednesday’s true identity doesn’t change Shadow’s plan in any way. He still stops the other gods from going to war, which thwarts dear dad’s plan. So unlike Luke Skywalker, Shadow wants to defeat his father even after discovering his true identity.

In Conclusion

Writers tend to avoid using twists they’ve seen in other works. Sometimes we fear that unless our plots are unique, we won’t be taken seriously as artists. That’s not the case! Rather, it’s perfectly fine to reuse a plot element, so long as we make it our own. I think the above example illustrates that point perfectly.

Now get out there and write!

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.

Why Don’t They Call the Cops? – Answering Your Readers’ Questions Before They Ask Them

November 12, 2018 /

My wife is currently reading a frustrating book (I won’t tell you the title). She’s got several grievances, such as one character’s annoying name and another character’s dopey behavior. But one issue stands above the rest. My wife asks:

“Why don’t they call the cops?”

Now that’s an important question, especially for writers. When the going gets tough, why don’t your main characters call the cops?

As writers, we must constantly ask ourselves questions like these, because our readers certainly will. If we never anticipate the questions that might arise, readers will end up feeling frustrated, like my wife does now.

How can we answer our readers’ questions before they’re asked? Let’s get into it.

1. Put Yourself in Your Characters’ Shoes

Let’s say your protagonist is being stalked by someone outside the house who’s trying to break in. Why doesn’t he or she call the cops? If you can’t answer this question, you can’t proceed with your story.

So put yourself in your character’s shoes. Say to yourself, “Okay self. Let’s say that as you’re writing this, you hear someone breaking in downstairs. What do you do?” Calling the cops is probably on your shortlist. Finding a weapon to defend yourself with is another solid tactic. Shouting for help or escaping out the backdoor works, too. 

The final decision will vary depending on the character making it. However, you must at least provide plausible evidence as to why your character does or does not do something. Maybe they don’t call the cops because you’ve established that they’re distrustful of the police. Maybe they don’t arm themselves because they’re just a scared little kid.

Take a moment to show answers to logical questions. If you’ve done that, you can proceed with your story.

2. Share Your Work with Beta Readers

It’s okay if you don’t speak Greek. Beta readers are just the kind people who give you their first impressions on your works-in-progress. If they wonder why your main character didn’t call the cops, they’ll let you know.

The best beta readers tell you what questions they have as they read your work. For example, they might say, “I didn’t understand why Luna wouldn’t tell Solara about the mouse in the basement.” As the writer, you probably know the answer. Yet a beta reader might show that the answer isn’t clear enough. In this example, perhaps you go back and explicitly state Solara’s reasoning: Luna had cried wolf—or in this case, mouse—too many times already. She knew Solara would never believe her.

Beta readers need not be anyone fancy (though they can be if you like fancy people). Just pick your family, friends, or anyone you trust. Ask them if any questions arise while reading the story, and what you can do to answer them.

3. Consider the World of Your Story

If you’re writing a murder mystery set in Ancient Greece, the “Why don’t they call the cops?” question isn’t especially relevant (though Socrates calling the police on an iPhone is a hilarious image). Conversely, if you’re writing a murder mystery set in the distant future, you might need to put extra brain power into your explanation.

Why? Because as a reader, I won’t believe that in the year 3000 we’ll have phones like we do now. In fact, I’m not even sure we’ll still have phones. Would we have neural pathways connecting us all? Could you simply think, I’m in danger!, and then get instant help. You must take extra care to consider how the rules of your world affect readers’ questions.

Questions Need Answering!

Don’t be like the author of the book my wife is reading. Anticipate your readers’ questions, then answer them. And if you need a place to start, start with this one: “Why don’t they call the cops?”

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.

Ignoring the Internal Critic

September 24, 2018 /

My Internal Critic is a jerk. So is is yours.

Everyone’s Internal Critic says the same things in different ways. It tells us we’re not good enough, that we shouldn’t publish our work, that other writers are better. Internal Critics are those voices in our heads that remark, “I don’t think I would’ve used that adverb.” I’m going to date myself here, but I imagine the Internal Critic as a mini Simon Cowell.

Yes, the Internal Critic can be a jerk. And the truth is, you’ll never quite silence it. However, I believe you can learn to listen to it less. Here are several ways to do it.

Take a Break

Internal Critics love criticizing current projects. Nostalgia usually prevents them from lambasting older projects; anticipation does the same for future projects.

Therefore, guard your current project by making it a past project. Take a break. Let your Internal Critic forget about the mistakes of the past. The Internal Critic is usually an opportunist—it likes going after whatever’s closest. Put down your project, then come back to it.

But make sure you come back to it! Don’t let your Internal Critic talk you out of your work. When you return, you’ll probably be more objective than you were before. There will likely still be problems, yes, but you’ll also spot delightful bits you hadn’t noticed before. That sharp line of dialogue will jump off the page. That sick description will spark your imagination. It will impress even the Internal Critic. So don’t miss this opportunity!

Remind Yourself of the Next Draft

Hey, Internal Critic. There is such a thing as a second draft. In fact, the first draft is always bad. So don’t criticize it so harshly.

Reiterate this to yourself (and your Internal Critic). The first draft is bad, yes, but it’s also just the beginning. Criticizing a first draft is like criticizing a team at their first practice. Of course it’s going to be bad. Of course there will be mistakes. Expecting immediate perfection isn’t just unfair—it’s downright unrealistic!

Improvement is an iterative process. If your Internal Critic forgets that, remind it.

Listen (A Little)

It might sound odd, but sometimes it’s beneficial to take the Internal Critic’s advice—at least at the beginning. For example, imagine you’re writing a novel with multiple point of view characters. Four of them work great, but the fifth feels increasingly unnecessary to the plot. Cue the Internal Critic.

“Hey buddy. IC here. Listen, I’ve been wondering. That fifth POV character. Umm…why?”

Despite the obnoxious tone, you might try considering the Internal Critic’s critique. Treat it like you would any member of your writer’s group. If it’s helpful advice, use it. If it’s just the Critic being critical, discard it.

A Few Exercises to Try Against Your Inner Critic

  • When you feel your Inner Critic pushing you, push back. Evaluate all the reasons your Inner Critic is wrong.
  • Hey Internal Critics! Just because you aren’t the best doesn’t mean you’re not good. That would be like saying Scottie Pippen is bad at basketball because Michael Jordan’s better. Pippen’s still one of the all-time greats, even if he’s not the greatest. So, even if you aren’t as good a writer as Margaret Atwood or Kurt Vonnegut, that doesn’t mean you aren’t a good writer. And if you work hard enough, maybe someday you’ll become better than both.
  • If your Inner Critic constantly reminds you how hard writing is, say, “Yeah. You’re right!” Writing is hard. Writing is very hard. But that doesn’t mean you can’t do it. In truth, it’s a good thing. Because most of the best things in life require dedication. Easy tasks are forgettable. Difficult ones are meaningful.
  • Remind yourself that everyone has an Inner Critic, and that everyone’s Inner Critic is hardest on themselves.

Let’s ignore those Internal Critics as much as possible. Who needs ’em, anyway?

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.

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