Tuesday, 31 July 2012
Friday, 15 June 2012
Discussing the short story
Discussing the Short Story 'One Good Turn'
I found it interesting to look back at this story and examine its structure. It was commissioned by Victim Support Scotland for a collection from the point of view of the victim. The story originated from an incident many years ago in Edinburgh where a university student returning home late at night was randomly attacked and fatally stabbed. The incident, which greatly troubled me at the time, took place not that far from where I set the story.
I suggested in the notes that an effective beginning should introduce and categorise the protagonist and make you want to read on. Ben is aware of the others waiting for the longed for bus and recognises how uncomfortable the girl is. Her mixture of unsuitable clothes for the weather and her embarassment reminds him of his little sister. There is a creeping sense of menace in the male duo at the bus stop, especially towards the girl. So, when the time comes, despite desperately wanting to board the bus, Ben lets her get on instead. We like him for this.
The story structure is a little unusual in that it switches between Ben and Stephanie now. We see her point of view as well as his after their brief meeting and his gentlemanly act towards her. They 'click' as strangers sometimes do in extremis and their progress becomes a bit of a fun race. Ben showing off to make her smile as he races the bus. Maybe he will catch it up, maybe even be let board. Then they will really meet.
At first the race itself provides the gradually increasing obstacles, then suddenly the unpleasant duo appears and bangs in to him. He is winded, and cannot keep up with the bus any longer. He has failed to reach the girl. But it's worse than that.
The deepest darkest moments for both of them is fast approaching and they will co-incide.
Stephanie, realising something's wrong, abandons her safe and warm ride home.
Ben sees the 'silly' shoes appear (reflecting the opening scene). This time they are bringing her to him (where before he was chasing her). As he looks up, in a moment of calm, he recognises Stephanie for who she truly is, under the makeup and silly clothes.
As she kneels beside him, the cruel reality of what has happened is apparent to both of them. When Ben gave up his place on the bus for Stephanie, both their worlds changed forever. Something she desperately regrets.
The end reflects the beginning. He was there, when she needed him. She is there now when he needs her.
I left the end open, but hoped that the ambulance crew would arrive and save his life.
I imagine Ben and Stephanie together somewhere, but cannot be certain that they are.
I found it interesting to look back at this story and examine its structure. It was commissioned by Victim Support Scotland for a collection from the point of view of the victim. The story originated from an incident many years ago in Edinburgh where a university student returning home late at night was randomly attacked and fatally stabbed. The incident, which greatly troubled me at the time, took place not that far from where I set the story.
I suggested in the notes that an effective beginning should introduce and categorise the protagonist and make you want to read on. Ben is aware of the others waiting for the longed for bus and recognises how uncomfortable the girl is. Her mixture of unsuitable clothes for the weather and her embarassment reminds him of his little sister. There is a creeping sense of menace in the male duo at the bus stop, especially towards the girl. So, when the time comes, despite desperately wanting to board the bus, Ben lets her get on instead. We like him for this.
The story structure is a little unusual in that it switches between Ben and Stephanie now. We see her point of view as well as his after their brief meeting and his gentlemanly act towards her. They 'click' as strangers sometimes do in extremis and their progress becomes a bit of a fun race. Ben showing off to make her smile as he races the bus. Maybe he will catch it up, maybe even be let board. Then they will really meet.
At first the race itself provides the gradually increasing obstacles, then suddenly the unpleasant duo appears and bangs in to him. He is winded, and cannot keep up with the bus any longer. He has failed to reach the girl. But it's worse than that.
The deepest darkest moments for both of them is fast approaching and they will co-incide.
Stephanie, realising something's wrong, abandons her safe and warm ride home.
Ben sees the 'silly' shoes appear (reflecting the opening scene). This time they are bringing her to him (where before he was chasing her). As he looks up, in a moment of calm, he recognises Stephanie for who she truly is, under the makeup and silly clothes.
As she kneels beside him, the cruel reality of what has happened is apparent to both of them. When Ben gave up his place on the bus for Stephanie, both their worlds changed forever. Something she desperately regrets.
The end reflects the beginning. He was there, when she needed him. She is there now when he needs her.
I left the end open, but hoped that the ambulance crew would arrive and save his life.
I imagine Ben and Stephanie together somewhere, but cannot be certain that they are.
The Resolution
Before you write your resolution I'd like you to consider one thing. What image/thought/emotion do you want your reader to have in their heads when they reach the last word, because that's what will stay with them.That finale image or impression should in some way reflect the beginning. A resolution does not necessarily mean that everything is resolved. What you thought your protagonist wanted may not be what they really needed by the resolution. The tone of your story will help dictate the ending. In true noir, a story ends as desperately as it began. A comedy crime begins and ends on humour. A dramatic piece has a resolution usually based on a form of justice, or morality. The best ending is one your reader didn't expect but when faced with it, realises it's the right one. The sting in the tail.
A short story conceals many stories beneath. We drop into a life, stay a short while and re-emerge, while your character's lives continue. We will always wonder at what might happen next.
To illustrate some of the points raised I'd like you to consider a short story which was commissioned by Victim Support Scotland for a book called Shattered.
One Good Turn
The night bus emerged from Princes Street and turned into Lothian Road. Ben watched it pull up at the previous stop and wished once again he’d walked in that direction. At this time of night the buses filled up quickly. He was first in the queue but that might not be enough.
He stole a glance at the people behind him in the bus shelter. A girl then two guys. The girl looked frozen, her outfit more suited to a dance club than a February night in Edinburgh. Pretty in a cold, pinched sort of way, she was huddled against the glass as far from the two men as possible, as though she didn’t want them to notice her. Difficult in an outfit and heels like that. Ben had already heard their not so discreet comments.
The bus was lumbering up the hill giving Ben the sinking feeling that it was bursting at the seams. He checked his pocket for change, wishing he’d kept enough cash for a taxi. If he had he would be home by now, curled up in his warm bed, with the promise of a long lie tomorrow.
The bus slowed as it approached the stop and Ben allowed his hopes to rise. It wouldn’t stop if it was full. He stepped out of the shelter and stuck out his hand. Already the others were shuffling forward, eager like him to get on board. The bus ground to a halt and the door folded open, blasting them with welcome heat.
‘Sorry, one only.’
A chorus of anger erupted behind Ben as the message sank in.
‘Fuck you,’ the taller of the two guys shouted.
As Ben made to get on, he caught a glimpse of the lassie’s frozen face. He thought of his wee sister Catriona wearing shoes she couldn’t walk in, ignoring his mum’s advice about putting on a coat. He might be frozen but at least he could walk.
‘You go.’ He stood back to let the girl past.
She hesitated, uncertain how to react. ‘Are you sure?’
‘I’ll get the next one.’
The door closed behind her taking the heat with it. Ben saw the girl grip the pole, stumbling as the bus pulled sharply away.
‘Fucking good Samaritan,’ he cursed himself as he watched the tail end of the bus creep up Lothian Road.
The other two guys had given up and started walking. Ben decided to do the same. God knows when the next bus would arrive, and it too would likely be full. He stuck his hands in his pockets and dipped his head into the biting wind.
Stephanie was so intent on finding something to hold onto that she failed to smile her thanks as the bus pulled away. She felt sorry for the nice guy who’d given her his place, but was grateful for it.
As the bus accelerated she widened her stance in an effort to balance on the ridiculous heels, inwardly cursing herself for wearing the silly shoes. The shoes had been a mistake, the outfit had been a mistake, the entire night had been a mistake. Dark despair swept over her. Now that she didn’t have to concentrate on the cold, the horror that had been her evening came crashing back. She should have listened to her friends. She shouldn’t have gone with Gary. Stephanie clutched the pole tighter, her knuckles white.
The bus had pulled up at the traffic lights on the corner of Bread Street. From the right hand window she spotted her good Samaritan following them, walking with long swift strides. The sight made her feel a little better. He glanced in, catching her eye and smiling. The bus took off again, moving towards the right hand lane, heading for Bruntsfield. The guy, already across Bread Street suddenly broke into a run. Stephanie wanted to cheer him on as he chased the bus to the next traffic light. If it was red, he would catch them up.
Stephanie manoeuvred herself into a position where she could watch his progress from the back window.
The bus wasn’t that far ahead. If it met another red at Melville Drive he would catch up easily. The run had warmed him. He was out of breath but not by much and this was much better than standing at the bus stop. As if in answer to his prayer the bus slowed. The light was changing. Ben put on an extra spurt.
The two guys appeared from nowhere slamming hard into him. Ben staggered, his interrupted momentum resounding through his chest.
‘Bastard!’
Ben registered the shout and the fact that the two men from the bus stop were circling him, but he had no idea why. He drew himself up, gasping for breath.
‘Sorry,’ he said, not sure why he should apologise.
‘Aye, you fucking will be!’
Ben felt the sharp point of an elbow bury itself in his ribs. The little air that was left in his lungs escaped with a hiss. A sudden and acute sense of danger told him to get the hell out of there. Never argue. Always run. Before he could obey his own instructions the two guys were away, whooping and hollering, darting across the road, heading down the lane towards Fountainbridge.
Ben attempted to straighten up. The bus was still at the lights. If he could get his breath back he could catch it. Somehow that seemed even more important now than before. He drew air painfully into his lungs and set off again. Shit! The bus was beginning to move off. He spotted the girl watching him from the rear window and upped his effort.
He was only yards from the bus when his legs suddenly gave way beneath him. He staggered, reaching out to break his fall as the pavement rose abruptly to meet him.
Stephanie tried to peer out of the steamed up windows. Something had happened. He was on his own then there were three of them. Had he caught up with the other two guys from the bus stop?
Now he was on his own again, only yards behind the bus, but something was wrong.
‘Stop!’ she screamed and held her finger on the bell.
Ben wondered where he was and why he was lying down. Then he remembered – he always felt like this after donating blood. Calm and contented, as though seven pints were all he really needed to survive.
He licked his lips, tasting metal. Salty liquid bubbled up his throat and into his mouth to dribble down his chin. He felt no pain just a strange burning sensation in his side where the guy had elbowed him. He knew he should get up but had no idea where he would find the strength. He heard the rapid click of heels on the pavement and watched as the shoes ran towards him. Ben found himself wondering again how she could walk on those heels, let alone run.
She dropped onto bare knees beside him.
‘Are you alright?’ The face that stared down was frightened and Ben felt the need to reassure her, but couldn’t find his voice. Now she was speaking rapidly into her mobile saying something about a stabbing and an ambulance.
Confusion and fear began to devour Ben’s sense of calm.
‘It’s okay.’ She reached for his hand and took it in her own. Ben was surprised how warm her hand felt against his cold one. He looked up at her. Her eyes were a midnight blue. He thought she looked great in spite of the layers of makeup and the daft shoes and wanted to tell her so.
‘You’re going to be alright,’ she said, her voice soft and trembling.
It was good to hear her say it, even though Ben knew in that moment it wasn’t true.
She moved his head onto her knee. Somewhere in the distance Stephanie heard the searing sound of a siren. He was staring at her, his lips moving, but no sound came out. She gently wiped away the red bubble that had formed at the corner of his mouth.
‘It’s okay, they’re coming. Can you hear them?’
Her knees felt warm and she realised it was because she was kneeling in his blood.
She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She wanted to turn the clock back. She wanted to be standing in the freezing wind watching the bus pull away with him inside.
A short story conceals many stories beneath. We drop into a life, stay a short while and re-emerge, while your character's lives continue. We will always wonder at what might happen next.
To illustrate some of the points raised I'd like you to consider a short story which was commissioned by Victim Support Scotland for a book called Shattered.
One Good Turn
The night bus emerged from Princes Street and turned into Lothian Road. Ben watched it pull up at the previous stop and wished once again he’d walked in that direction. At this time of night the buses filled up quickly. He was first in the queue but that might not be enough.
He stole a glance at the people behind him in the bus shelter. A girl then two guys. The girl looked frozen, her outfit more suited to a dance club than a February night in Edinburgh. Pretty in a cold, pinched sort of way, she was huddled against the glass as far from the two men as possible, as though she didn’t want them to notice her. Difficult in an outfit and heels like that. Ben had already heard their not so discreet comments.
The bus was lumbering up the hill giving Ben the sinking feeling that it was bursting at the seams. He checked his pocket for change, wishing he’d kept enough cash for a taxi. If he had he would be home by now, curled up in his warm bed, with the promise of a long lie tomorrow.
The bus slowed as it approached the stop and Ben allowed his hopes to rise. It wouldn’t stop if it was full. He stepped out of the shelter and stuck out his hand. Already the others were shuffling forward, eager like him to get on board. The bus ground to a halt and the door folded open, blasting them with welcome heat.
‘Sorry, one only.’
A chorus of anger erupted behind Ben as the message sank in.
‘Fuck you,’ the taller of the two guys shouted.
As Ben made to get on, he caught a glimpse of the lassie’s frozen face. He thought of his wee sister Catriona wearing shoes she couldn’t walk in, ignoring his mum’s advice about putting on a coat. He might be frozen but at least he could walk.
‘You go.’ He stood back to let the girl past.
She hesitated, uncertain how to react. ‘Are you sure?’
‘I’ll get the next one.’
The door closed behind her taking the heat with it. Ben saw the girl grip the pole, stumbling as the bus pulled sharply away.
‘Fucking good Samaritan,’ he cursed himself as he watched the tail end of the bus creep up Lothian Road.
The other two guys had given up and started walking. Ben decided to do the same. God knows when the next bus would arrive, and it too would likely be full. He stuck his hands in his pockets and dipped his head into the biting wind.
Stephanie was so intent on finding something to hold onto that she failed to smile her thanks as the bus pulled away. She felt sorry for the nice guy who’d given her his place, but was grateful for it.
As the bus accelerated she widened her stance in an effort to balance on the ridiculous heels, inwardly cursing herself for wearing the silly shoes. The shoes had been a mistake, the outfit had been a mistake, the entire night had been a mistake. Dark despair swept over her. Now that she didn’t have to concentrate on the cold, the horror that had been her evening came crashing back. She should have listened to her friends. She shouldn’t have gone with Gary. Stephanie clutched the pole tighter, her knuckles white.
The bus had pulled up at the traffic lights on the corner of Bread Street. From the right hand window she spotted her good Samaritan following them, walking with long swift strides. The sight made her feel a little better. He glanced in, catching her eye and smiling. The bus took off again, moving towards the right hand lane, heading for Bruntsfield. The guy, already across Bread Street suddenly broke into a run. Stephanie wanted to cheer him on as he chased the bus to the next traffic light. If it was red, he would catch them up.
Stephanie manoeuvred herself into a position where she could watch his progress from the back window.
The bus wasn’t that far ahead. If it met another red at Melville Drive he would catch up easily. The run had warmed him. He was out of breath but not by much and this was much better than standing at the bus stop. As if in answer to his prayer the bus slowed. The light was changing. Ben put on an extra spurt.
The two guys appeared from nowhere slamming hard into him. Ben staggered, his interrupted momentum resounding through his chest.
‘Bastard!’
Ben registered the shout and the fact that the two men from the bus stop were circling him, but he had no idea why. He drew himself up, gasping for breath.
‘Sorry,’ he said, not sure why he should apologise.
‘Aye, you fucking will be!’
Ben felt the sharp point of an elbow bury itself in his ribs. The little air that was left in his lungs escaped with a hiss. A sudden and acute sense of danger told him to get the hell out of there. Never argue. Always run. Before he could obey his own instructions the two guys were away, whooping and hollering, darting across the road, heading down the lane towards Fountainbridge.
Ben attempted to straighten up. The bus was still at the lights. If he could get his breath back he could catch it. Somehow that seemed even more important now than before. He drew air painfully into his lungs and set off again. Shit! The bus was beginning to move off. He spotted the girl watching him from the rear window and upped his effort.
He was only yards from the bus when his legs suddenly gave way beneath him. He staggered, reaching out to break his fall as the pavement rose abruptly to meet him.
Stephanie tried to peer out of the steamed up windows. Something had happened. He was on his own then there were three of them. Had he caught up with the other two guys from the bus stop?
Now he was on his own again, only yards behind the bus, but something was wrong.
‘Stop!’ she screamed and held her finger on the bell.
Ben wondered where he was and why he was lying down. Then he remembered – he always felt like this after donating blood. Calm and contented, as though seven pints were all he really needed to survive.
He licked his lips, tasting metal. Salty liquid bubbled up his throat and into his mouth to dribble down his chin. He felt no pain just a strange burning sensation in his side where the guy had elbowed him. He knew he should get up but had no idea where he would find the strength. He heard the rapid click of heels on the pavement and watched as the shoes ran towards him. Ben found himself wondering again how she could walk on those heels, let alone run.
She dropped onto bare knees beside him.
‘Are you alright?’ The face that stared down was frightened and Ben felt the need to reassure her, but couldn’t find his voice. Now she was speaking rapidly into her mobile saying something about a stabbing and an ambulance.
Confusion and fear began to devour Ben’s sense of calm.
‘It’s okay.’ She reached for his hand and took it in her own. Ben was surprised how warm her hand felt against his cold one. He looked up at her. Her eyes were a midnight blue. He thought she looked great in spite of the layers of makeup and the daft shoes and wanted to tell her so.
‘You’re going to be alright,’ she said, her voice soft and trembling.
It was good to hear her say it, even though Ben knew in that moment it wasn’t true.
She moved his head onto her knee. Somewhere in the distance Stephanie heard the searing sound of a siren. He was staring at her, his lips moving, but no sound came out. She gently wiped away the red bubble that had formed at the corner of his mouth.
‘It’s okay, they’re coming. Can you hear them?’
Her knees felt warm and she realised it was because she was kneeling in his blood.
She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She wanted to turn the clock back. She wanted to be standing in the freezing wind watching the bus pull away with him inside.
Monday, 30 April 2012
The Muddle in the Middle
Here's the second guest posting I've done in conjunction with US based Mystery Writer Gerard Bianco.
The Structure of Story
The Muddle in the Middle
As I said in my opening piece, human beings intuitively understand when a story works. That’s probably most obvious when sitting in a packed cinema. The collective intelligence of the audience knows when things are going slack in the story. This happens usually in the middle section when the audience starts to fidget and eat their popcorn. They’ve dropped out of the story. They’re back in the real world. Something that should never happen. In the case of novels, it’s where you skip bits you don’t feel engaged with and hope to be recaptured later on. Or even worse you lose interest and stop reading the story altogether!
So what went wrong with the storytelling?
One of the most obvious reasons for giving up on a story is because we don’t care what happens to the people who inhabit the story, particularly the main character, our protagonist.
Because a story is a character in action.A story should present us with a character we empathise with, who is presented with a situation that propels them into action. Through a variety of escalating challenges they're tested to their limits and emerge usually having learned something about themselves in the process. We have lived vicariously through them.
A story is deepened when we also follow secondary characters and become involved with their lives, but these characters’ actions should always impact on our protagonist’s story. Switching viewpoints and using dramatic irony makes the storytelling dynamic. However, if you tell a story from too many viewpoints you can lose your reader, because we have to buy into a character enough to really care.
As a writer you should ask yourself:
Who is my protagonist?
What do they want?
Why do they want it?
What’s stopping them?
What’s the result?
These questions will eventually present you with the theme of your story i.e what it’s really about. Crime stories usually have a main theme of justice or the restoration of order, but there can be many subthemes operating within the crime story e.g Love, revenge, coming of age etc
The conflict your character faces can be external or internal and is usually both, but it must be big enough to sustain the reader’s interest and for them to want the protagonist to succeed.
We have already considered the beginning and the inciting incident (sometimes called the first crisis.) This is what propels your protagonist into action. Most people would rather have an easy life, so your protagonist may prevaricate, but eventually they must move. Once they do, nothing will ever be the same again.
Once into the ‘muddle in the middle’ the antagonistic forces rise even more against our main character. This is the part of the story where things often go wrong. The story slackens. We lose the reader’s attention. One common error it to make the antagonistic force too strong, too soon, leaving nowhere to go. To prevent the story from going slack, you need to build momentum towards the middle of this section of the story. It’s that old saying that things will get worse before they get better. When our protagonist deals with what some call their deepest darkest cave, you can provide a little respite. Stories differ a lot in this middle section. Some peak around the midpoint, some go on slow burn and peak towards the end of this section. In a short story, because of its length, the 'peak' or 'deepest darkest cave' moment is usually placed towards the end of the middle section.
To keep your story tight and your reader engrossed, it's sometimes useful to timeline it. Mark where each obstacle is met and matched and where exactly the big crisis happens. Also check that the conflict is always on the increase. The pattern of three is often seen here. Try, try, try again is something we all recognise, from nursery stories onwards.
Any secondary stories will also have a three part structure and a character arc. It's good to know that the really big moments in a story occur when a key moment in a subplot clashes with a key moment for the protagonist. Those are the scenes we remember the most.
Next time… the resolution (and the twist in the tail). After which I'll use a short crime story to illustrate what we've learned about structure.
The aim is of course to get you all writing short crime stories to enter the international Bloody Scotland short story competition.
Check out the fabulous prizes at http://www.bloodyscotland.com/
Last time I talked about effective beginnings and promised to follow it with 'the muddle in the middle'.
Well, here it is...
The Muddle in the Middle
As I said in my opening piece, human beings intuitively understand when a story works. That’s probably most obvious when sitting in a packed cinema. The collective intelligence of the audience knows when things are going slack in the story. This happens usually in the middle section when the audience starts to fidget and eat their popcorn. They’ve dropped out of the story. They’re back in the real world. Something that should never happen. In the case of novels, it’s where you skip bits you don’t feel engaged with and hope to be recaptured later on. Or even worse you lose interest and stop reading the story altogether!
So what went wrong with the storytelling?
One of the most obvious reasons for giving up on a story is because we don’t care what happens to the people who inhabit the story, particularly the main character, our protagonist.
Because a story is a character in action.A story should present us with a character we empathise with, who is presented with a situation that propels them into action. Through a variety of escalating challenges they're tested to their limits and emerge usually having learned something about themselves in the process. We have lived vicariously through them.
A story is deepened when we also follow secondary characters and become involved with their lives, but these characters’ actions should always impact on our protagonist’s story. Switching viewpoints and using dramatic irony makes the storytelling dynamic. However, if you tell a story from too many viewpoints you can lose your reader, because we have to buy into a character enough to really care.
As a writer you should ask yourself:
Who is my protagonist?
What do they want?
Why do they want it?
What’s stopping them?
What’s the result?
These questions will eventually present you with the theme of your story i.e what it’s really about. Crime stories usually have a main theme of justice or the restoration of order, but there can be many subthemes operating within the crime story e.g Love, revenge, coming of age etc
The conflict your character faces can be external or internal and is usually both, but it must be big enough to sustain the reader’s interest and for them to want the protagonist to succeed.
We have already considered the beginning and the inciting incident (sometimes called the first crisis.) This is what propels your protagonist into action. Most people would rather have an easy life, so your protagonist may prevaricate, but eventually they must move. Once they do, nothing will ever be the same again.
Once into the ‘muddle in the middle’ the antagonistic forces rise even more against our main character. This is the part of the story where things often go wrong. The story slackens. We lose the reader’s attention. One common error it to make the antagonistic force too strong, too soon, leaving nowhere to go. To prevent the story from going slack, you need to build momentum towards the middle of this section of the story. It’s that old saying that things will get worse before they get better. When our protagonist deals with what some call their deepest darkest cave, you can provide a little respite. Stories differ a lot in this middle section. Some peak around the midpoint, some go on slow burn and peak towards the end of this section. In a short story, because of its length, the 'peak' or 'deepest darkest cave' moment is usually placed towards the end of the middle section.
To keep your story tight and your reader engrossed, it's sometimes useful to timeline it. Mark where each obstacle is met and matched and where exactly the big crisis happens. Also check that the conflict is always on the increase. The pattern of three is often seen here. Try, try, try again is something we all recognise, from nursery stories onwards.
Any secondary stories will also have a three part structure and a character arc. It's good to know that the really big moments in a story occur when a key moment in a subplot clashes with a key moment for the protagonist. Those are the scenes we remember the most.
Next time… the resolution (and the twist in the tail). After which I'll use a short crime story to illustrate what we've learned about structure.
Tuesday, 17 April 2012
Story Structure - In the Beginning
Following on from Gerard's piece, below is my contribution to his US blog. I've decided to talk about the structure of story in the hope that it will help those who want to discover what might be wrong with a story, or those who often start a story but then get stuck and don't know why. There will be three parts, starting with an overview and looking at beginnings, with occasional references to crime in particular in case you're planning an entry to the Bloody Scotland short story competition at http://www.bloodyscotland.com/
When I wrote my first short story and my first novel I had no idea how stories 'worked'. I knew instinctively when one didn't work, but had no idea why. When I wrote my first crime piece for television, I studied how it was done by watching Prime Suspect, a classic, and noting the structure, arrangement and purpose of each scene. The resultant screenplay generated a great deal of interest from a USA based television producer. I didn't have it completely right, but I had told the story in a way that kept him reading. That screenplay became Driftnet, the first of eight novels featuring forensic expert Dr Rhona MacLeod.After Driftnet was published and became a bestseller, I became interested in why the story appeared to work well and began to look at stories in the way I look at screenplays. Any story in any form is 'a character in action'. Crime novels are not about the crime per se. They're about the character(s) that solve the crime. Great characters create a series. The readers come back for more of them and their world. That's understood, but what about structure?
I would argue that writing a crime story is harder than writing general fiction. Why? Because you have to do everything that a dramatic piece does - create a protagnist your reader can empathise with and use their personal story to explore the human condition. Added to this you have to create a complex mystery that interweaves with their own story. Secrets must be revealed at the right moment (always keep a secret as long as possible). Placing each piece in a complex jigsaw so that the reader cannot/must not know the full picture until the last piece is in place. Not for the fainthearted.
So how does understanding structure help you?
We all intuitively know when a story 'works'. Watch a movie audience. When they start twitching and losing interest, they've dropped out of the story. The question is why? The general form of a story is The Beginning/The Muddle in the Middle/The Resolution. Roughly speaking the first and last form a quarter of the story each. The Muddle in the Middle is a half. The middle section is the really tricky part. Here's where things can flatline and you lose your way and your readers. Beginnings aren't easy either, but creating something new is heaps of fun and carries you along, provided you understand what a beginning must achieve.
Stories are characters in action. Actions driven by conflict. The conflicts may not be big in world terms, but they are big to your main character. As one conflict is solved, another rears its bigger uglier head. The opening is the first time we see your main character in action and is instrumental in selling your book to your readers.
Effective beginnings need to do three things
The chief of these is to get the story going and show what kind of story it’s going to be and the tone you'll use to tell it.
The second is to introduce and categorise the protagonist
The third is to engage the reader’s interest in reading on. (They have to want to turn the page)
A beginning can do more than this i.e. establish a mood, a setting, a norm. But it should always do the first three. The most economical way of handling these three jobs is to find a way of doing all three at once using a scene. Why? Because a story is a character in action. You reveal the character by what they do in a situation. Stories are also circular. The end will in some way reflect the beginning, but we can worry about that at the end. Whatever inciting incident you create will set your character on a journey to satifsy a need they might not even know they have. By the end of the first Act they will have stepped over the threshold into the unknown. In a crime story, the inciting incident will normally involve a crime. In Driftnet, the murder of a teenage boy who looks like Rhona makes her think he might be the son she gave up for adoption 17 years before. That inciting incident impacts on both her personal and professional life. A double whammy. Is he or isn't he her son? Who killed him?
Next time.
Part 2 The Muddle in the Middle.
When I wrote my first short story and my first novel I had no idea how stories 'worked'. I knew instinctively when one didn't work, but had no idea why. When I wrote my first crime piece for television, I studied how it was done by watching Prime Suspect, a classic, and noting the structure, arrangement and purpose of each scene. The resultant screenplay generated a great deal of interest from a USA based television producer. I didn't have it completely right, but I had told the story in a way that kept him reading. That screenplay became Driftnet, the first of eight novels featuring forensic expert Dr Rhona MacLeod.After Driftnet was published and became a bestseller, I became interested in why the story appeared to work well and began to look at stories in the way I look at screenplays. Any story in any form is 'a character in action'. Crime novels are not about the crime per se. They're about the character(s) that solve the crime. Great characters create a series. The readers come back for more of them and their world. That's understood, but what about structure?
I would argue that writing a crime story is harder than writing general fiction. Why? Because you have to do everything that a dramatic piece does - create a protagnist your reader can empathise with and use their personal story to explore the human condition. Added to this you have to create a complex mystery that interweaves with their own story. Secrets must be revealed at the right moment (always keep a secret as long as possible). Placing each piece in a complex jigsaw so that the reader cannot/must not know the full picture until the last piece is in place. Not for the fainthearted.
So how does understanding structure help you?
We all intuitively know when a story 'works'. Watch a movie audience. When they start twitching and losing interest, they've dropped out of the story. The question is why? The general form of a story is The Beginning/The Muddle in the Middle/The Resolution. Roughly speaking the first and last form a quarter of the story each. The Muddle in the Middle is a half. The middle section is the really tricky part. Here's where things can flatline and you lose your way and your readers. Beginnings aren't easy either, but creating something new is heaps of fun and carries you along, provided you understand what a beginning must achieve.
Stories are characters in action. Actions driven by conflict. The conflicts may not be big in world terms, but they are big to your main character. As one conflict is solved, another rears its bigger uglier head. The opening is the first time we see your main character in action and is instrumental in selling your book to your readers.
Effective beginnings need to do three things
The chief of these is to get the story going and show what kind of story it’s going to be and the tone you'll use to tell it.
The second is to introduce and categorise the protagonist
The third is to engage the reader’s interest in reading on. (They have to want to turn the page)
A beginning can do more than this i.e. establish a mood, a setting, a norm. But it should always do the first three. The most economical way of handling these three jobs is to find a way of doing all three at once using a scene. Why? Because a story is a character in action. You reveal the character by what they do in a situation. Stories are also circular. The end will in some way reflect the beginning, but we can worry about that at the end. Whatever inciting incident you create will set your character on a journey to satifsy a need they might not even know they have. By the end of the first Act they will have stepped over the threshold into the unknown. In a crime story, the inciting incident will normally involve a crime. In Driftnet, the murder of a teenage boy who looks like Rhona makes her think he might be the son she gave up for adoption 17 years before. That inciting incident impacts on both her personal and professional life. A double whammy. Is he or isn't he her son? Who killed him?
Next time.
Part 2 The Muddle in the Middle.
Saturday, 14 April 2012
Planting a Seed
One of the aims of Bloody Scotland crime festival was to reach out to readers and authors round the world and share our interest in and love for the wonderful variety of writing in the crime genre. Here is, as promised, the post from Gerard Bianco, award winning US mystery writer. Enjoy...
Include More Than One Mystery in Your Novel
by Gerard Bianco
Reading a great mystery novel is a lot like horseback riding. Sometimes, you’re cautiously slow-walking on unfamiliar turf. Other times, you’re head-bobbling-wobbling trotting. Then there are those times when you’re whooshing along on a take-your-breath-away gallop. This variety of pace is one of the key elements contributing to the thrill and excitement of the ride. Another is fear. (What if I fall off the damn horse?)
In keeping with this metaphor, mystery writing then becomes somewhat like laying out a course for the rider. The author must include a assortment of terrains to make the ride interesting and somewhat challenging. There has to be grassy hills to climb and soft, sloping landscapes to descend. There must be twists and turns, tree-laden paths, and long, smooth straight-aways for those blazing gallops.
To accomplish this, writers use an assortment of subtle and not-so-subtle techniques to enhance their storytelling and add the necessary oomph required for a successful mystery/suspense yarn. From the many techniques available, consider the following.
Planting a Seed
How do you write a page-turning mystery—one in which people say, "I couldn’t put the book down?" How did authors like Raymond Chandler, Erle Stanley Gardner and Agatha Christie create stories that keep us glued to the page? One technique they used is called, "Planting a Seed." These authors sprinkled their mystery stories with several small, subtle mysteries that forecast evil, ruthless, merciless, cruel and unscrupulous events that will take place later on in the novel. These little mysteries, many times placed at the end of a chapter, add breadth to the story, carrying the interest of the reader from the beginning of the novel to its successful conclusion. Tied together with the larger who-done-it, they keep the reader turning pages faster than you can say, "221B Baker Street."
In my lecture series, Subtle Writing Techniques Used to Create a Successful Mystery Novel, I stress the importance of taking the extra steps necessary to bypass the competition you’ll come up against in today’s highly aggressive market place. Incorporating the technique of "Planting a Seed," will place you well ahead of your fellow authors. Both the TV and film industries understand the importance of "Planting a Seed" to capture the viewer’s attention. Commercials, film clips and trailers are filled with nerve-tingling uncertainties that leave the viewer panting for more.
Let’s take a look at a few examples of mystery seed planting from some of the authors I mentioned earlier.
Raymond Chandler in his last sentence of Chapter 4 in Farewell, My Lovely wrote: "I went out of the Hotel Sans Souci and crossed the street to my car. It looked too easy. It looked much too easy." It doesn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out that later on in the story ‘it ain’t gonna be so easy.’ By planting those two little sentences, Chandler keeps us wondering what will happen next.
In The Case of the Musical Cow, Erle Stanley Gardner wrote at the end of Chapter 13: "The co-ordinates had located the position of car seven within two hundred feet. The trap was ready to be set." Can’t you just hear the eerie music being played after those lines?
Agatha Christie proved she is the "Queen of Crime" when, in her short story, The Double Clue, she introduced the diabolical character, Countess Rossakoffand, Poirot’s suggested love-interest, and then prophesized, through Poirot, that the Countess and the detective will, one day, reconvene. In his final words of this story, Poirot sighs to Hastings: "A remarkable woman. I have a feeling, my friend—a very decided feeling—I shall meet her again. Where, I wonder?" The seed Christie planted kept her readers on the edge of their seats, waiting for her next novel.
Once you begin to recognize how authors use these subtle mysteries to keep the reader racing through the story, you’ll begin to understand their importance and use them in your own mysteries. It’s essential to remember, as with most techniques of writing, not to overplay your hand with too many of these keenly-placed accents, otherwise your story will become burdensome and taxing. Keep your dialogue crisp and your descriptions sparse. Say no more than is required to get your point across. Your terseness will create a sense of urgency that will have your reader yearning for more of what you’re dishing out.
Here’s an example of the seed I planted, along with the brevity that I used in my book THE DEAL MASTER. At the end of Chapter 11, I wrote: "With his shoulders up around his ears, he quickly walked away from the action without once looking back. When he reached the corner, he turned left. Then, when he was certain no one was looking, he sprinted as fast as his legs would take him towards what he thought was freedom, but on the contrary, was nothing of the kind."
Gerard Bianco is the award-winning author of the mystery/thriller THE DEAL MASTER. His newest book, DISCIPLINE: A PLAY (2012) has recently won the Editor’s Choice Award. He is a contributing author in the NOW WRITE MYSTERIES BOOK and his short stories have appeared in print. Mr. Bianco’s lectures on the "Art of Mystery Writing" are popular amongst writers and readers alike. He lives in Maine, USA. His website is: http://writerenroute.com/
Include More Than One Mystery in Your Novel
by Gerard Bianco
Reading a great mystery novel is a lot like horseback riding. Sometimes, you’re cautiously slow-walking on unfamiliar turf. Other times, you’re head-bobbling-wobbling trotting. Then there are those times when you’re whooshing along on a take-your-breath-away gallop. This variety of pace is one of the key elements contributing to the thrill and excitement of the ride. Another is fear. (What if I fall off the damn horse?)
In keeping with this metaphor, mystery writing then becomes somewhat like laying out a course for the rider. The author must include a assortment of terrains to make the ride interesting and somewhat challenging. There has to be grassy hills to climb and soft, sloping landscapes to descend. There must be twists and turns, tree-laden paths, and long, smooth straight-aways for those blazing gallops.
To accomplish this, writers use an assortment of subtle and not-so-subtle techniques to enhance their storytelling and add the necessary oomph required for a successful mystery/suspense yarn. From the many techniques available, consider the following.
Planting a Seed
How do you write a page-turning mystery—one in which people say, "I couldn’t put the book down?" How did authors like Raymond Chandler, Erle Stanley Gardner and Agatha Christie create stories that keep us glued to the page? One technique they used is called, "Planting a Seed." These authors sprinkled their mystery stories with several small, subtle mysteries that forecast evil, ruthless, merciless, cruel and unscrupulous events that will take place later on in the novel. These little mysteries, many times placed at the end of a chapter, add breadth to the story, carrying the interest of the reader from the beginning of the novel to its successful conclusion. Tied together with the larger who-done-it, they keep the reader turning pages faster than you can say, "221B Baker Street."
In my lecture series, Subtle Writing Techniques Used to Create a Successful Mystery Novel, I stress the importance of taking the extra steps necessary to bypass the competition you’ll come up against in today’s highly aggressive market place. Incorporating the technique of "Planting a Seed," will place you well ahead of your fellow authors. Both the TV and film industries understand the importance of "Planting a Seed" to capture the viewer’s attention. Commercials, film clips and trailers are filled with nerve-tingling uncertainties that leave the viewer panting for more.
Let’s take a look at a few examples of mystery seed planting from some of the authors I mentioned earlier.
Raymond Chandler in his last sentence of Chapter 4 in Farewell, My Lovely wrote: "I went out of the Hotel Sans Souci and crossed the street to my car. It looked too easy. It looked much too easy." It doesn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out that later on in the story ‘it ain’t gonna be so easy.’ By planting those two little sentences, Chandler keeps us wondering what will happen next.
In The Case of the Musical Cow, Erle Stanley Gardner wrote at the end of Chapter 13: "The co-ordinates had located the position of car seven within two hundred feet. The trap was ready to be set." Can’t you just hear the eerie music being played after those lines?
Agatha Christie proved she is the "Queen of Crime" when, in her short story, The Double Clue, she introduced the diabolical character, Countess Rossakoffand, Poirot’s suggested love-interest, and then prophesized, through Poirot, that the Countess and the detective will, one day, reconvene. In his final words of this story, Poirot sighs to Hastings: "A remarkable woman. I have a feeling, my friend—a very decided feeling—I shall meet her again. Where, I wonder?" The seed Christie planted kept her readers on the edge of their seats, waiting for her next novel.
Once you begin to recognize how authors use these subtle mysteries to keep the reader racing through the story, you’ll begin to understand their importance and use them in your own mysteries. It’s essential to remember, as with most techniques of writing, not to overplay your hand with too many of these keenly-placed accents, otherwise your story will become burdensome and taxing. Keep your dialogue crisp and your descriptions sparse. Say no more than is required to get your point across. Your terseness will create a sense of urgency that will have your reader yearning for more of what you’re dishing out.
Here’s an example of the seed I planted, along with the brevity that I used in my book THE DEAL MASTER. At the end of Chapter 11, I wrote: "With his shoulders up around his ears, he quickly walked away from the action without once looking back. When he reached the corner, he turned left. Then, when he was certain no one was looking, he sprinted as fast as his legs would take him towards what he thought was freedom, but on the contrary, was nothing of the kind."
Gerard Bianco is the award-winning author of the mystery/thriller THE DEAL MASTER. His newest book, DISCIPLINE: A PLAY (2012) has recently won the Editor’s Choice Award. He is a contributing author in the NOW WRITE MYSTERIES BOOK and his short stories have appeared in print. Mr. Bianco’s lectures on the "Art of Mystery Writing" are popular amongst writers and readers alike. He lives in Maine, USA. His website is: http://writerenroute.com/
Thursday, 12 April 2012
Guest blogger
Bloody Scotland is connecting with writers and readers globally and through BS I've teamed up with US mystery writer Gerard Bianco to share some writing tips which could prove useful if you're planning writing that short crime story of even a longer one.
Gerard Bianco is the award-winning author of the mystery/thriller THE DEAL MASTER. His newest book, DISCIPLINE: A PLAY (2012) has recently won the Editor’s Choice Award. He is a contributing author in the NOW WRITE MYSTERIES BOOK and his short stories have appeared in print. Mr. Bianco’s lectures on the "Art of Mystery Writing" are popular amongst writers and readers alike. He lives in Maine, USA. His website is: http://writerenroute.com/
Watch out for Gerard's guest blog topic 'Planting a Seed'.
Gerard Bianco is the award-winning author of the mystery/thriller THE DEAL MASTER. His newest book, DISCIPLINE: A PLAY (2012) has recently won the Editor’s Choice Award. He is a contributing author in the NOW WRITE MYSTERIES BOOK and his short stories have appeared in print. Mr. Bianco’s lectures on the "Art of Mystery Writing" are popular amongst writers and readers alike. He lives in Maine, USA. His website is: http://writerenroute.com/
Watch out for Gerard's guest blog topic 'Planting a Seed'.
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