If most vampires are adult, yours is a child . . . and he meets an unbitten girl . . . and wants to be human again. Which makes the Elders very unhappy . . . so he’s visited by the Oldest Drinker, who is, we learn, the son of you-know-who and who wants to be human too . . .
If all dragons breathe fire, yours does only if ______ (fill in the blank). Or your dragon can’t fly, but wishes she could, and the hero (or heroine!) who has come to kill her takes her to a wizard who can help her learn to fly—which she needs to do if she’s to save not only her scaly kind but the wizard’s people as well.
You get the picture. Jump in, have fun, and watch your writing bloom when you make what’s old and stale brand-new and full of the wonder every reader (and writer) deserves.
JEFFREY A. CARVER
Create a Power!
JEFFREY A. CARVER is the author of the Chaos Chronicles series, the Nebula-nominated Eternity’s End (Tor Science Fiction), and many other science fiction novels and stories. His online course for aspiring writers is available free to all at writesf.com.
My career path has wound through a lot of writing workshops, where I’ve worked with aspiring writers of all ages. It strikes me that the same challenges seem to hit everyone in the face, whether they’re high school students (New England Young Writers Conference), university students (MIT), or adults trying their hand at something new (the Ultimate SF Writing Workshop I co-host with fantasist Craig Shaw Gardner). Probably the biggest single challenge after “What’s my story about?” is “How do I turn my great idea into a story?”
That last is a key question, and it’s not always obvious to the new writer. It wasn’t to me, when I was first starting. I had lots of great ideas—at least, I thought they were great. That was fine as far as it went, but it took me a long time—and many rejections—to understand that the idea was only as good as its effects in the lives of my characters. Or to put it another way, it only came to life when it triggered some kind of conflict, because conflict is the heart and soul of story.
It might help to think of an idea as a starting block, or a coiled spring waiting to be released. A story is what happens in that release, when we see the cause and effect of the idea unfold in the lives of characters. It’s when you start thinking through the consequences of your idea that you begin developing a real story.
Now, there are as many ways to discover your story as there are to trip over a dog in the kitchen—and some of them feel about as planned. But sometimes exercises can help. There is one I have found consistently useful in workshops, and that is the prompt that Craig Gardner and I call the “Powers” exercise. I don’t know who first came up with it. Craig borrowed the idea from a long-ago class he attended as a beginner, taught by the late great Hal Clement, and we’ve fiddled with it over the course of many workshops. Hal is gone, so I can’t ask him if he made it up or borrowed it in turn from someone else. Wherever it came from, it’s been responsible for starting more stories and propelling them to completion than any other exercise we’ve used.
EXERCISE
Imagine a character who has a power. It can be any power at all, as long as it sets your character apart from everyone else. It can be a superpower, like Superman’s. It can be extraordinary training, like Batman’s. It can be a gift from an alien or an angel. It can be scientific, supernatural, extrasensory, mental, emotional, or technological. Anything at all.
Now, ask yourself:
1. What is the single most important benefit of this power? There might be several, but probably one or two will really jump out at you. List as many as you can think of. Find one that trumps them all.
2. What are the negative consequences? For Superman, it might be Kryptonite, and social isolation. What would it be for Batman? What would it be for your character? Think even harder about this than you did about the positive, because there’s a good chance this is where you’ll find your most interesting conflict. List all that you can think of.
Now write a scene. Write it so that it reveals something of the power, and also the downside. How does one flow from the other? Don’t info dump it; let it play out in action. Show it in relation to other people; show the emotional consequences.
With a little luck and hard work, you may find yourself with not just a scene, but the kernel of a story. Your work has just begun!
DEREK TAYLOR KENT
FUNdamentals of Writing
DEREK TAYLOR KENT is an author, screenwriter, and performer. His Scary School book series (under pen name Derek the Ghost and published by HarperCollins) won an award for Funniest Chapter Book of 2011 from Children’s Literature Network. Derek teaches children’s and young adult writing for Writing Pad in Los Angeles.
Hello writers! My name is Derek Taylor Kent (AKA Derek the Ghost), author of the middle-grade series Scary School from HarperCollins. I am sure that soon you will have your own great success in writing. How do I know? I’m a ghost and we have psychic abilities. Also, by committing yourself to doing writing exercises, you’ve proven that you’re willing to put in the time and effort it takes to get there.
I had been writing children’s books since I was fifteen years old, and didn’t get my first book deal until I was thirty. I’ve talked to several very famous authors who had written ten novels before they finally got one published. So stick to it and keep writing!
Aside from writing books, I also teach children’s, YA, and adult fiction writing at Writing Pad in Los Angeles. I was very excited to be asked to contribute a writing exercise to this anthology because writing exercises are a central tenet of the Writing Pad method. Our students will do one or two writing exercises every class, and about 90 percent of the time, the stream-of-consciousness writing that comes out under a ten- to fifteen-minute time constraint ends up yielding gold that they incorporate into their books.
So for this exercise, I want you to give yourself a fifteen-minute maximum time limit.
The theme of this exercise is fun.
When writing for children or a middle-grade audience like I do, fun is the key word. If you write a book that’s fun to read, it will probably get a book deal. If kids have fun reading it, you will probably have a hit book on the shelves. If you have fun writing it, it will probably be fun to read.
One of the questions I get asked the most is: “I don’t think my book is fun enough. How do I make it more fun?”
There’s a very simple answer to that question: Just make sure your characters are having fun!
When writing our plots, the characters get tangled up in a series of conflicts, problems, and obstacles to overcome. They go through so many trials and tribulations, there hardly seems to be time for them to have any fun, right?
WRONG!!
If we don’t see your characters having fun, we won’t know what they do for fun, and they won’t be well-rounded.
Take, for instance, Harry Potter. What does he do for fun? That’s right. Quidditch. J. K. Rowling knew that Harry needed an escape from being hunted down by a murderous dark Lord, so he gets to escape it all in every book with some awesome games of Quidditch. The games of Quidditch usually have nothing to do with the plot; though sometimes bad things happen that lead to character development or a new twist in the story. But while Harry is up in the sky seeking that golden snitch, it’s all about him having fun.
I remember an amazing moment in THE LORD OF THE RINGS movie. Gollum gets to have a moment where he’s swimming in a pool, singing to himself, and then he catches a fish and bites into it. It’s the most fun he can have and the happiest he ever is in the movies. It’s a great moment because the whole time Gollum has been beaten down and sulking in his awful predicament, but seeing him having fun swimming in the pool shows us that deep down there’s still a fun-loving spirit, which makes us feel for him all the more.
When writing a scene in which your character is having fun, the reader has just as much fun reading it
as the character is having. That’s right! Reading about characters having fun is super-fun.
You know the other great thing about it? It doesn’t have to have anything to do with the plot! You can totally forget about your plot for a while. Plot is boring. Characters being themselves is interesting. Characters changing is interesting. Character development is fun to read.
EXERCISE
1. Take one of your main characters from whatever project you are working on and make a list of things that they do for fun. Mark one that would be the most fun.
2. In fifteen minutes or less, write a scene in which the character is having the most fun he or she can possibly have. Do not inject any plot elements. Just let the character be him- or herself in your chosen environment. Give it to someone to read. If they smile while reading it (which they will), you’ve done your job.
JESSICA PAGE MORRELL
The Villain’s Handbook
JESSICA PAGE MORRELL is the author of five books for writers. She works as a developmental editor, writes columns and articles about the writing life, and contributes to anthologies. She lives in Portland, Oregon, where she’s surrounded by writers and the oft-gloomy skies bring on imaginings she usually keeps to herself.
I was scared a lot as a kid. Of monsters lurking in my closet and tigers pacing under my bed, and the Wicked Witch of the West who came to snatch me in my nightmares. It didn’t help that my older brother and I would attend horror films at our local theater. After the films we’d walk home in the dark and every shadow seemed to leap out at me. Decades later I can still recall my heart-racing fear.
Because I spent my early years quaking beneath my blankets, monsters and villains have always fascinated me. Because I teach writers, I’m convinced that how a writer populates his or her fictional world is the ultimate skill test. And villains need to be the crown of a writer’s creation. Slippery, evil, dangerous . . . villains are the chess masters of the fiction world. It’s not enough that they are adversaries; the villain should bedevil, terrify, and cause suffering.
Villains run the gamut of vile criminals, warlords, incarnations of Satan, fallen angels, sociopaths, and monsters. But just because a villain has the job of wreaking havoc in the story world, it doesn’t mean you have a license to simply create a character or creature that is solely evil without much thought about how he, she, or it got that way. If your villain is human, you need to know why he cannot relate to people normally. If you find that you’ve created a one-dimensional villain or a killing machine or golem with no motivation, then it’s likely you’ve written a melodrama.
Let’s say a word about monsters here before we go further. Monsters are a subset of villainy—usually nonhuman, bestial, and demon-like. Monsters exist to prey on our most primitive, childlike fears. Monsters are the other. The always whispered about bogeyman, beast, mutant, ogre, zombie. They typically star in horror, sci-fi, and fantasy, and something in their makeup is malevolent and savage.
Since monsters have been around since the beginning of time, they are usually archetypal. They will always bring chaos, the story world is an aberrant or dangerous place, and it seems as if there is no escape. In times past, monsters were soulless with rare exceptions such as Frankenstein’s monster.
However things are changing. In the Twilight series the werewolves and vampires are hunks. While this trend rages, remember that there is nothing like a potent monster. Before you create a monster, decide if it is truly monstrous or, instead, sympathetic. Real monsters create horror in the reader; sympathetic monsters bedevil us, but their potency is diluted.
All villains must be potent, believable, yet evil. The more sophisticated the plot, the more sophisticated the villain. The odd aspect of villainy is that these characters express the worst of our world. They frighten us because their evil machinations make the implausible seem all too possible.
Here’s a handbook for creating a villain who will haunt your readers’ days and nights.
Decide if he is sympathetic or bad to the bone. When it comes to sympathetic, it doesn’t mean you’d invite a villain to dinner. Sympathy means understandable or even relatable, a presence that makes for a more realistic and nuanced story. They evoke a response from readers that goes beyond fear and loathing. There may be pity, yes, but also a creepy identification, and maybe disquiet at this insight. And although readers might understand a sympathetic villain, they must also understand the threat he poses. Your villain might genuinely love his family or desperately long for the love and approval of his father. A sympathetic villain might be hoping for redemption.
With an unsympathetic villain, readers root for his defeat; with a sympathetic villain, our feelings are more ambivalent. We often want to see him redeemed, or our hero to feel a sense of tragedy at his demise. It’s easy to smugly hate the bad guy, but if we wonder if we might have taken the same wrong turns, if we question our own morals and honor, then the sympathetic villain has served his purpose.
Make your villain real. Often the most frightening villains are human, the more so for they may walk among us. Yes, it is the human side of such characters that make the hairs of your neck stand on end.
Craft an appearance that is fascinating and rare. Generally villains who blend into the landscape won’t loom large in your reader’s imagination—or nightmares. Maybe your villain has chalky skin, cat-like yellow slits for eyes, spidery fingers.
Know how he/she/it takes up space. Elegant? Hulking? Slithery? Deformed? Avoids sunlight and scuttles around in gloomy places? Most villains try to appear larger than their actual size, but no matter their actual dimensions, they must somehow loom larger-than-life.
Stir in deviancy or the bad-ass factor. Find extra-creepy ways to prove that your villain is a true bad ass. Perhaps he’s a charming sociopath like Tom Ripley, or a cannibal stew of savagery and sophistication like Hannibal Lecter. A female who doesn’t display motherly nurturing is always frightening because it turns upside down our notions of gender roles—she becomes the witch or evil stepmother of countless fairy tales.
Nail down your villain’s psychology. Narcissism is typical in villains’ makeup. Thus they rarely fight battles they cannot win. They put their own interests first, believing themselves the most important creatures in the universe. But of course feelings of deep inferiority feed a need for endless power. Does your villain have the extreme elements of narcissism or other sociopathic tendencies in his makeup? Is he mad, or does he pretend to be?
Know why he wants what he wants. Villains without understandable motives come off as papery. The more horrific their villainy, the stronger must be the motive. A thirst for revenge, greed, anger, lust for power, and jealousy are typical drivers. Combine and personalize them, and they become even more powerful. For example, a villain wants to take over a kingdom and is also secretly in love with the hero’s betrothed. Adding a further motive on top of “more power” makes them an even better character.
Make your villain unstoppable. Since villains are highly motivated, they are also unstoppable. Villains range one step ahead of your protagonist, and the world in general. Far thinking is a typical attribute of villains. When the hero arrives on the scene, the villain’s power base must be established, a plan in place. Realize that if the reader doesn’t believe in the threat your villain represents, you have comedy rather than horror.
Give your villain allure. Often villains have pulled in others with cunning and craft. This could be through sexual prowess, rewards, power, and flattery. The spice of control. The feeling of being on the edge of grasping even a tainted dream.
Let your villain relish the fight. In real life most people avoid conflict, preferring to make nice. Not so for the villainous. They’re up for the fight, with a chess master’s farseeing eye for strategy within the world in which they maneuver, and they know their own powers. But step beyond clichés. Is he plodding yet indestructible? Or devious, always coming up with
new ways to bring the pain?
Create a troubled, complicated past. A villain’s backstory is often filled with bile. They have a need for power to compensate for the pain of their early years. The reader will always want to know why. Somewhere in their past, they were overlooked, ridiculed, neglected, abused, lived in the shadow of a sibling. Then they took a wrong turn that led to the disintegration of their soul.
Have your villain progress step by step. Usually effective villains are a long time in the making. They first score small successes, then move on to bigger victories and strategies. Patience is often their prime trait. If your villain is rash, he probably won’t make a good villain. Know his rise to power that propelled him to aberrant greatness. And let the reader watch as that power grows to hubris, which in turn leads him to his deserved doom.
Undone. You need to know how your villain can be brought down and plan for it as you plot each scene. Sauron is undone by one of the smallest creatures in Middle-earth. The best villains fight to the death; they don’t screw up so the hero can win. A villain who stops to explain his diabolical plans, and in so doing gives the hero a means of escape, just doesn’t cut it.
EXERCISE
1. Begin with a potent name. Names are powerful tools. Used correctly, they’ll invisibly support your story, enhancing and underlining your plot and themes. The best villain names have firepower. An unsympathetic villain’s name should reflect menace, coldness, and/or strength. Think Gollum, Darth Vader, the Borg. Not exactly names you’d find in a baby book. Look into the meanings and the history of those who’ve shared the name, so you can subtly enrich your story by choosing names that are a commentary or secret clue to the action. You just know they’re on the wrong team. S sounds like Snape suggest something slithery and shivery. The Borg sounds like a collective nightmare. James Moriarty sounds like both a worthy nemesis and a professor. Morgoth sounds evil. You might want to choose hard consonant sounds like K or unusual names like Xykon from the Order of the Stick.
Now Write! Page 22
