Announcement: Thanksgiving Break

I'm off for the holiday. Have a Happy Thanksgiving!

Say What?

Today uses a repeat of my last post's text to point out something else. (MavFan has been kind enough to let me do this to her Star Trek: Voyager fan fiction story "Collective Freedom?") This excerpt is still from the opening of the story.

The background to this is Icheb knew Naomi while growing up; they were both on the starship Voyager when it was stranded for seven years far away from home. Icheb is now a commanding officer of a starship, and he encouraged his captain to take Naomi aboard, since he'd known she'd be a good officer. Unfortunately, it's very shortly after they meet again that they realize their emotions for each other aren't precisely platonic, and Captain Dax is furious at apparently being "tricked" into bringing her commanding officer's girlfriend aboard.

After a pleasant dinner with Doctor Franklin, Icheb and Naomi adjourned to Icheb’s quarters to discuss strategy for tomorrow’s meeting with Captain Dax.

“Icheb, how much trouble do you think we are in?”

“I have no idea. I have never been the direct subject of Captain Dax’s ire before. However, from my observation as well as stories I’ve heard, she can be quite acerbic on occasion.”

“Do you think this will be such an occasion?”

They were sitting side by side on Icheb’s couch and before he answered, he put his arm around Naomi and pulled her head onto his shoulder, “I’m afraid so.”

“What are we going to do?”

“That depends. Mostly I think the Captain will be letting us know what we can and can’t do, should and shouldn’t do. Perhaps it would be best if I answer any direct questions from her.”

“I suppose so, as long as she doesn’t get the impression I have nothing to say about this.”

“Well, that isn’t the impression I am trying to convey. I just think since she has known me longer and I am the ranking officer, I should do most, not all, of the talking.”

The problem I'll be focusing on, today: dialogue. Before you panic, no, I'm not talking about dialectic dialogue (writing dialect in dialogue). I am talking about writing dialogue that doesn't sound like the characters are artificial cardboard cutouts. Read that dialogue up above aloud, and I know I get images of a formal tea party in the wrong era.

That vocabulary issue I mentioned before comes into play, here. Listen to the words people use when speaking; most often, it's the roundabout vague terms that are said and not the ones appearing on school vocabulary tests. Now, Icheb spent awhile as a sort-of machine (aka Borg), so he can be excused if he often uses advanced language (though that he's missing the "brain" part of his Borg "anatomy" should also be taken into account). Naomi is also highly intelligent, so she can likewise use it sometimes.

So it's not the vocabulary itself that sounds "wrong," but it's how it's used. Notice all the complete sentences in the excerpt. How often does that happen? Tape record any conversation, and it'll be full with sentence fragments, interruptions, pauses, and repetitions. Written dialogue needs to catch the feel for that (usually barring repetition).

The best way to explain this is to demonstrate it. I've taken most of the excerpt from above and adjusted the dialogue a bit. (I've also added a few dialogue tags to keep it known who was talking.)

“Are we in much trouble?” Naomi asked.

“I don't know. She's never been mad at me before. From observation and hearsay I understand she can be quite acerbic.”

“Think tomorrow will be one of those times?”

They were sitting side by side on Icheb’s couch, and before he answered, he put his arm around Naomi and pulled her head onto his shoulder. “I’m afraid so.”

“What are we going to do?”

“That depends. Mostly I think the Captain will be setting boundaries for us. Perhaps I should answer any direct questions from her.”

“I guess.” Naomi frowned. "But that makes it seem like I have nothing to say."

Icheb shook his head. “I am the ranking officer. And Captain Dax has known me longer.”

Is that the best example? Probably not. I don't write these two, myself, and I honestly still have trouble with the idea of Ezri Dax (a Star Trek: Deep Space Nine character) being a captain. But I hope it gets my point across.

What's the best way to learn to write better dialogue? Listen to yourself and others speak; read the dialogue aloud after you write it. If it sounds awkward, it is. (And tongue-twisters are a good sign of confusing writing.)

I understand that some writers expose themselves to different types of speech by eavesdropping in coffee shops. I stick to paying attention to conversations involving me, myself. (Downside to that means you're stuck with dialogue forms that you're already exposed to, which tends to be limited to your own demographic.) Pay attention, learn, practice. It's like that for all points of writing.

...Where Were We?

Today, we'll be looking at the opening of MavFan's fan fiction story "Collective Freedom?" The story is written in the Star Trek: Voyager fandom, so Paramount owns the characters and settings and MavFan owns what she's done with them.

This excerpt is a bit longer than the last one I used. Because this is the beginning of this story, I won't give any background.

After a pleasant dinner with Doctor Franklin, Icheb and Naomi adjourned to Icheb’s quarters to discuss strategy for tomorrow’s meeting with Captain Dax.

“Icheb, how much trouble do you think we are in?”

“I have no idea. I have never been the direct subject of Captain Dax’s ire before. However, from my observation as well as stories I’ve heard, she can be quite acerbic on occasion.”

“Do you think this will be such an occasion?”

They were sitting side by side on Icheb’s couch and before he answered, he put his arm around Naomi and pulled her head onto his shoulder, “I’m afraid so.”

“What are we going to do?”

“That depends. Mostly I think the Captain will be letting us know what we can and can’t do, should and shouldn’t do. Perhaps it would be best if I answer any direct questions from her.”

“I suppose so, as long as she doesn’t get the impression I have nothing to say about this.”

“Well, that isn’t the impression I am trying to convey. I just think since she has known me longer and I am the ranking officer, I should do most, not all, of the talking.”

The first problem with this is the opening line. This is written as a sequel, but it reads as if this first chapter should be the next of "Reporting for Duty." If the reader hasn't read "Reporting for Duty, there is no way whatsoever for him to jump in and really enjoy this. There's no sense of who the characters are, the setting, their relationship to each other; nothing. If you're not familiar with Star Trek: Voyager, you're hopelessly lost, and even if you are, you're still probably scratching your head. (A question that keeps occurring to me is, isn't he umpteen years her senior? I mean, I know Naomi was maturing twice as fast as was usual for a child because she's only half human, and Icheb isn't human at all, but still…) MavFan hasn't set up her setting and apparently expects readers of "Collective Freedom?" to be limited to "Reporting for Duty"s readers.

Questions that could or should be answered include who Doctor Franklin is; why the twosome have to "discuss strategy;" who the twosome are, precisely; what's the big deal about them having a meeting with Captain Dax; what ship are they on; what's the problem at hand; and so forth.

Then there's the vocabulary of the first line. "Icheb and Naomi adjourned to Icheb’s quarters" doesn't mesh. Adjourned is more formal and gives this completely the wrong tone, here, as well as making the reader fear this is going to be one of those thesaurus-happy writers. A staff meeting could "adjourn;" two off-duty officers probably aren't walking formally as they head to the guy's quarters.

There's also the problem I mentioned previously, about all the talking with no action. But notice a few lines down where it adds in that "They were sitting side by side on Icheb's couch." If they've been cozy or even sitting beside each other this entire time, that's something that needs to go at the top before we hear them conversing.

Story openings, even for sequels, need to work so people can come to them cold and not be completely bewildered. And though vocabulary can be a good thing, writers have to be careful where they put it in their writings. Words have connotative meanings that aren't necessarily in the dictionary, and the writer who uses more than an occassional vocabulary word risks alienating many readers.

P.S. "They were sitting side by side on Icheb’s couch and before he answered, he put his arm around Naomi and pulled her head onto his shoulder, 'I’m afraid so'" should be "They were sitting side by side on Icheb’s couch, and before he answered, he put his arm around Naomi and pulled her head onto his shoulder. 'I’m afraid so'" Watch the grammar! Commas come before the conjunction in compound sentences, and commas don't link speech to a sentence unless the sentence concerns how the spoken element was said.

Lawn Mower Mouth

As I said yesterday, the text for workshop is taken directly from MavFan's fan fiction story "Collective Freedom?" In other words, I don't own the workshop text, and even the writer doesn't own the world she's using, in flattery of Star Trek: Voyager.

Requisite disclaimer cared for, let's get to business. The following bit comes from the beginning of chapter fifteen, where two people who watched Naomi grow from infancy and helped raise Icheb (a boy they found when a teen) have to face the fact that the "kids" they knew are now old enough to be going out. Together.

Chakotay and the Voyager’s EMH were sitting in Chakotay’s ready room.

. . . .

Chakotay asked, “What do you think of this new romance between Icheb and Naomi Wildman?”

“It’s sweet isn’t it? Of course, it too, is disturbing. Emotionally, I just can’t make myself believe little Naomi is old enough to be in a romantic relationship. Logically, however, I know she is old enough.”

“I’m not at all surprised about it. Of course, I can’t go into any further detail, temporal prime directive.” This pronouncement was accompanied by a mischievous smile.

Ellipses indicate deleted section that includes first half of the "Chakotay asked" sentence. Nothing pertinent has been cut.

Pretty much the whole story runs like this. The immediate problem—besides "the Voyager's EMH" being a bad grammatical construction that needs either the or 's cut—is all the moving mouths. Far too heavy on the dialogue, here. What else is moving?

Okay, so the Doctor (the EMH guy) and Chakotay "were sitting in Chakotay’s ready room." What were they doing while sitting? Was Chakotay having some coffee (since the Doctor can't eat)? Were they going over reports? If nothing's in their hands, why were they sitting there? To relax after being on their feet all day? There's usually a reason two people sit and chat.

People don't sit still while talking. They move. Fiddle, sprawl, stretch, pop knuckles—pay attention to actions next time you're having a conversation with someone, especially ones that aren't pertinent to the conversation. Jot them down as soon as it's polite. There's your fodder next time you're writing conversation.

If you can't think of something for your characters to be doing while talking, cut! The scene's worthless! Use indirect description, or have it referred to, later. The example scene could vanish into a line next time one of those characters were in a "keeper" scene that brought up the Naomi/Icheb topic: Chakotay could say when someone else brings up the topic, "Yeah, Doc said the same thing."

…I don't remember if Chakotay would say "Doc." I'm getting images of Lt. Paris with that line. Anyway, I think I've gotten my point across: characters act while talking. If you can't make 'em do something during the conversation, then that conversation ain't doing nothing, either. (Yes, I intended that.)

Helpful?

Note: The "Lawn Mower Mouth" that I used as a title was actually a friend's nickname for me in second grade. Guess why.

Plagued by an Overactive Mind

What's that saying—or is it only a general impression? That writers tend to be insane? I've been using that as my motto, lately.

I don't remember my dreams often, but when I do, I dream novels. If I had an agent and were a novelist who could afford to write them for a living, it wouldn't be so bad. It would be quite doable. But as a full-time student who works part time and runs two blogs, uh-uh.

So I write the notes and jot other things till I get stuck, to come back to later. Maybe.

But my most recent one absolutely refuses to get stuck. I'm calling it my unofficial NaNoWriMo entry. (NaNoWriMo, National Novel Writing Month, is a challenge to write a 50k-word novel in the month of November.) It's even my most straightforward story idea, at the moment.

Please excuse me while I sigh. I need to finish one of my novels, not add Keeper of Shadows to my stack of incompletes, but… It's the easiest idea I have to write, right now.

I'll see how far I get before I get "stuck." If it keeps flowing like it's been, it may be my first finished novel, after all.

The most disturbing thing about it is… Well, certain elements of the plot that I pulled from my dream I seriously considered striking since they bothered—fine, disgusted—me, but I've realized that there's a reason for them. I pull them, I might as well nix the story because it loses its point.

Wonderful. Just when I thought I might've had an almost-normal story idea, for once.

Of course, whenever I try to force myself into one of those, I absolutely hate writing it, so it's for the best, I guess. I rather like the opening line: "That summer, if anyone had told her that she'd be both a Keeper and expecting a child by one of the Kept by Christmas, she would have laughed at the speaker's guillibility and imagination."

Sources that I've realized as influencing my mind in creating this plot have included:

• What little I've managed to read (the online excerpts) from Shanna Swendson's Enchanted, Inc. series.
• The genre confusion of Linnea Sinclair's Gabriel's Ghosts. Basically, Gabriel's somehow not a ghost while being enough of one that the book got an award for paranormal romance. Anyone know the book to explain that?
• What was this one? Oh, right: the idea that morality is relative to cultures. Ooo, this is a big one.
• …And I think there was another one. Oh, well.

Like it, hate it, agree that I'm insane, think that I should stop writing? Anyone? :-)

Announcement: New Theme for November!

Okay, here's what I'll be doing for the rest of this month: a workshop!

MavFan has been kind enough to let me use her Star Trek: Voyager fan fiction novella Collective Freedom?. (Fan fiction can be nice to write for practice, by the way, without losing publication rights to your original stories.)

I'll be taking pieces from "Collective Freedom?" and pointing out problems and ways to fix them, so this isn't just for Star Trek fans. I'll be assuming you don't know what I'm talking about. (It's a Naomi/Icheb pairing, for those who care to know.)

Thanks to a rather annoying dream that had to be the most straightforward novel idea I own at the moment, I've also now been saddled with a possible unofficial NaNoWriMo entry. The three people I've mentioned bits of the story to have been intrigued, despite my personal mental response of "Where the heck did I come up with that?!" (Of course, my analytical mind actually answered such questions, but that's another blog post topic.)

But I Don't Know Her First Boyfriend's Half-sister's Mother's Name, Yet!

That's probably what most of us think when we consider the idea of extensive planning for something we want to write: planning everything down to the teeniest details that will never apply to what we're writing and—worse—we don't care about, anyway.

But that's a misconception. It's always good to plan things you won't actually use, because that backstory will then influence and seep into your actual story—Lord of the Rings, anyone?—making it far richer than it would've been, otherwise. Extensive planning doesn't (necessarily) mean planning out every single impertinent detail before you can even sit down and write.

No, extensive planning is more like those sentence outlines you might've hated in school: the ones that, when finished, are pretty much the paper in an outline format. As you sit down to string the sentences together, you'll likely have some reorganization and revision to do, but all the foundation is there if you've done the outline well.

That's what the extensive planner does: makes the full structure for the book and scenes so when he sits down to write it, he can start wherever he wants without having to worry (much) about integration, later. The middle, the end, the beginning—what he'd originally thought would be all the scenes of the book are before him so he can write them in whatever order he wants.

Might that extensive plan change during the writing process? Yes. But that's a good thing.

Some of us, though, lack the patience to plan extensively or know we have trouble flexing from a detailed plan when it's not working. In our cases, a form of minimal planning is best. But please, please don't handicap by not planning whatsoever!

And if you find yourself stuck working out details like the one listed in this post's title, close this window and start writing your story. Now.

Okay, I've Enough, Now

…to start writing!

I suspect most of us who don't dismiss planning altogether plan very little. We use minimal planning, mostly starting with a skeleton and then inventing things as we realize we need them.

It's a lot easier than extensive planning, true, but... Like all the methods, it has its problems. We might miss an important element of our world, then find ourselves facing a novel with a plot hole at the end. If we plan too minimally, we might find ourselves trapped in a world with nowhere to go without breaking any of the world's rules.

That's why the person who plans minimally should be well aware of the genre he's writing. If it's a Harry Potter-ish fantasy, you'll have to know three worlds: the magic world, the non-magic world, and where they intersect and how. You'll also need to know how much each world knows about the others, and if it's very little, why? What keeps the worlds from learning about each other?

That doesn't mean you'll have to know the name of every single ruler or governor, but it does mean you'll need to know if a Council of Wizards persecutes any non-magical person who learns of magic. The details may not necessarily end up in your story (or article, if you for example at first intend to write about different learning styles and realize that's too broad a topic for one article), but that groundwork likely will.

On the upside, minimal planning means you probably don't need to decide your hero's favorite food at the outset of the story until page 86 when you need it. (Even then, you can likely change it later, depending on your plot.) It means you only have to know the groundwork that runs what you're writing, like one of those keyword outlines you might've preferred writing in school.

For the minimalist planner, the writing still brings a wealth of discovery and probably change. You might finish writing a novel this month and realize the name Kerr would suit your hero better than Paul does. (Okay, fine; I've not finished writing that one, yet.)

The planning's comparatively easy, once you figure out what you need to know and what you need to do to figure it out. But the writing can still be oh-so-hard.

Announcement: Delayed New Theme...

Since I still have two articles to write for October's. So, for today and Wednesday, at least, October's theme of novel-writing methods will continue.

Please let me know if there are any themes that you want me to cover.