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Reflecting on a Remarkable Story

Synopsis

Johnny Merrimon is a twin…or was. His thirteen-year-old sister, Alyssa, disappeared a year ago. Since then, his father has also abandoned Johnny and his mother, leaving them destitute, his mother an addict and Johnny desperate for answers. The boy has made it his mission to explore even the darkest fringes of society, seeking for any evidence of his sister’s whereabouts. Meanwhile, detective Clyde Hunt, a man still haunted by the unsolved case of Alyssa’s presumed abduction, grows increasingly concerned about Johnny’s activities and the places to which they will likely lead him.

This is a mystery, making it an excellent counterpart to the supposed mystery we discussed in my prior post.

Give Readers a Unique, Larger-than-Life Main Character

Johnny jumps off the very first page of the prologue. He’s on a bus, alone. Through the driver’s eyes, we see that Johnny appears to be a runaway, suffering from sleeplessness or malnutrition, with wary, haunted eyes. But when the boy leaves the bus and undertakes his objective (I’ll leave it for you to discover what that is), Hart hits the readers with a heavy dose of shock, horror, despair and empathy, instantly pulling us into Johnny’s world.

Though our initial shock eases into the main story, Johnny remains larger than life from start to finish. He’s a boy who won’t give up, won’t give in, won’t go along, won’t be controlled…you name it. He’s going to find his sister if it’s the last thing he does. If that means driving the car (often) at 14 years old, if it means stalking pedophiles and known predators, if it means sleeping in the woods that’s what he’s going to do.

All of this adds to Johnny’s appeal. He’s easy to care about, but never predictable. And he does change throughout the book in subtle, but measurable ways.

Build a Twisty, Unpredictable Plot

Hart’s plot isn’t predictable either. Whereas another writer would pair Johnny with the wanna-be father figure, detective Hunt, Hart doesn’t. Johnny wouldn’t have it. He’s going to do things on his own. Whereas another writer would lead the boy to discover what seems like the only possible answer and end the book there, Hart delivers a striking twist and takes the story in another direction.

I can’t give you too much here or I’d have to give some spoilers, but suffice it to say that Hart’s plot is a solidly unpredictable and yet satisfying one. As you’re building your own plot, the best advice I can give is to know the ending first and then work backwards from there. Build in twists by heading in a different direction than the ending you intend; then twist it in another direction; twist again until you have readers sitting squarely where you originally planned on ending the story.

Know What Readers in Your Genre Expect/ Require

We talked about this at a higher level in the mirror post – 5 Ways to Wreck Your Novel – but I’ll give you some more genre-specific details here.

The Last Child is a mystery with a healthy dash of thriller. What makes it a thriller is that Johnny has a nemesis who sees such an enterprising, determined and tenacious young man as an obstacle to the control he hopes to retain on Johnny’s mother. He intends on removing Johnny from the equation and sets out to do that in increasingly malicious ways. In this story, readers will expect to see both mystery- and thriller-specific elements. Some of those are:

• An opening mystery – Alyssa is missing and presumably abducted due to an eyewitness account; readers know this at the beginning of the story
• Search for clues – Johnny spends the book searching for clues to her whereabouts and narrows in on the truth as the story progresses
• Known threat – the nemesis in the story escalates his pursuit of Johnny throughout the book
• Sidekick – many genres benefit from a sidekick, often, but not always, a contemporary of the protagonist (one of Johnny’s friends in this case), with whom he can share the journey and explore possible clues
• Mentor – mentors are practically required in Fantasy novels (here’s to you, Gandalf!) and very often in any genre in which the protagonist is a child
• Main Character’s triumph – the MC must, must, must solve the mystery. Some writers make the mistake of allowing the mentor or another character to jump in and at least help in the solution. That is a huge no-no! There’s a reason why mentors are very often eliminated from the story (often at the 75% point) or at the very least their influence is significantly diminished. Readers expect the main character to overcome the challenge.
• Who can be trusted? – in a thriller this is a requirement. Thrillers are about the question of trustworthiness: who is who they say that they are, who will come through or support the main character versus who is really untrustworthy?
• A fast pace – this is often true in mysteries, but much more so in thrillers.

Hart gives readers all of the above.

Keep the Tension/ Conflict at a Constant Pitch

As I just implied, Hart gives readers nearly constant tension and conflict. There are times in even the most intense stories when an author gives the character(s) a moment of relief from the conflict. The extent of the story’s tension is a balancing game. Too little and readers lose interest; too much and the author risks losing them to exhaustion and undue stress.

Hart walks that line very effectively. If anything, he maintains the utmost tension that most mystery-thriller readers will tolerate. That makes the book unputdownable as we now say in the literary world.

If in doubt, amp up the conflict and tension, not down. I’ve never seen an author give too much, but the alternative is a death sentence for the book. And keep in mind that even though you, as the author, know the book’s ending and aren’t surprised by your own twists and turns, if it doesn’t give you a sense of suspense or wonder or adrenaline (whatever you’re going for), it won’t give your readers one either.

Nail the Ending

And lastly, Hart nails the ending, which is absolutely essential. You can have a flawlessly crafted book, but if the ending doesn’t wow readers, they’ll hate the book. It’s that simple: the ending is a deal-breaker. Obviously I won’t tell you what the ending is, but I’ll give you some high-level pointers regarding how Hart accomplishes this and how we should as well.

1. Fitting: It has to fit all of the pieces you’ve given the readers. That means that everything the protagonist has discovered and experienced should lead to the ending.
2. Unexpected: In some genres such as mysteries and thrillers an unexpected ending is required. When we pair that with our first point above (fitting), that means that we’ve laid out all of the clues, but our main character and our readers haven’t put them together properly until the very end. I’ll say that again: the clues have to be there. Don’t give us a surprise ending that no one could have guessed. Everyone hates that. BUT, do give us enough red herrings, combined with the MC’s misdirection so that we don’t interpret the clues correctly.
3. No Loose Strings: Every loose string should be tied off in such a way that it feels natural. They all wrap up easily, smoothly, without being forced. The only exception to this is if the story is part of a series of books and some of the strings (and the principle conflict) have to remain open until the final book is finished.

These are tall orders. They’re hard things to accomplish, but they’re the difference between an effective novel and one that isn’t. Hart does all of them well in The Last Child. If you haven’t read it, check it out!

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A Sensitive Look at a Failed Story

As of the end of July, I’ve read a number of books this summer. Some of them have been great, even wonderful examples of everything a book should be. Others…not so much. In this post, I’d like to talk about one of the worst books I’ve ever read and what we can learn from this. However, I intend to do so very carefully. I won’t list the name of the book or the author, or even the kinds of details that would enable someone to figure out which one it is. My goal is not to crucify the poor woman who must have tried very hard to put out a great story, but rather to point out the kinds of things that are great reminders to you and me as we craft our own tales. That said, as I reflect on all that went wrong in this story, I see 5 to wreck your novel. Or, in other words, 5 ways we can learn not to wreck it if we do the opposite.

High-Level Story

The story is marketed as a mystery told in dual timelines—several years in the protagonist’s youth and a brief window of time in her middle-age years. At the onset of the story, we learn that two people have been found dead. The circumstances and nature of their deaths is unknown.

At the very end of the story—the last two chapters—the author gives us first a shocking supposed answer to the deaths and then a plot twist alongside the truth.

I’ll discuss the rest of what we need to know about this book as we walk through what went wrong.

#1: Ignore the Basic Rules of the Genre

The most basic problem in this book is a misunderstanding of how to write a mystery. [And keep in mind that the back cover and the writing clearly identify that the author intended to write a mystery.]

If you read mysteries, you know that they always open with the mysterious situation—often, but not always, a death/ murder. From that point on, it’s the protagonist’s job to hunt for clues to solve the mystery. For example: how was the person killed and by whom? Or what is the terrible family secret that’s controlling a strange set of circumstances?

Mystery protagonists can take many different forms such as the amateur sleuth like Nancy Drew or the brilliant, eccentric police inspector, Hercule Poirot. And the mysteries themselves can run the gamut from intimate family secrets to political intrigue (although danger and suspense is generally expected or even required). But the number one absolutely required element is that the protagonist is searching for and unearthing clues throughout the story.

The book I’m referring to had none of that. There’s the brief prologue with the two discovered bodies and the last two chapters with the supposed and then actual answer to the deaths. The protagonist doesn’t look for clues, doesn’t accidentally find them, doesn’t really even devote any space to considering what happened. She really just wallows (in the current, middle-age timeline) in the effect that the incident had on her due to her use of it for publicity purposes.

Your Genre

You may not be writing a mystery. Regardless, there are elements to any genre that need to be there. If it’s a thriller, the protagonist (and the readers) need to know that someone or something is hunting him from early in the story…even if we don’t know why yet. In a romance, there’s relational and/or physical intimacy along with the kinds of conflict two people might encounter as they learn to love one another or grow in love at some point in their relationship. If you’re writing fantasy you’re dealing with a magic system and a whole lot of other elements.

You know this. I know this. But let’s not do what this author did and get lost in a middle story that has nothing to do with the framework we’ve chosen. If you want more help with this, there are lots of resources out there from the book Save the Cat! Writes a Novel by Jessica Brody to K.M. Weiland’s very comprehensive website: Helping Writers Become Authors.

#2: Zero Conflict

Every book must have conflict. That’s what makes a story.

It doesn’t matter whether you’re writing a middle-grade coming-of-age story, a romance, or a spy thriller. There should be conflict. Something or someone is standing in the way of what the main character wants.

There’s virtually zero conflict in the book I’m discussing here. The girl gets the guy she likes. No misunderstandings, disagreements, or external challenges. There are some supposedly mean girls in the book and readers see a little bratty behavior, but not much. They never stand in the way of the protagonist. Never play tricks on her, start rumors, or try to steal her boyfriend.

There is NOTHING more boring than a story without conflict. That’s why authors often say that you have to make it hard for your character(s). Very hard. Painfully difficult. The journey to love, find hidden treasure or escape from slavery must be a challenge. Throw lots of obstacles in the character’s way. The obstacles should make sense to the story, but they should be real. And they should be very hard, at times almost impossible to overcome.

That’s what keeps readers reading.

#3: Create a Discordant Atmosphere

Ok, I struggled with how to word the header for this section. What I mean to say though is that the atmosphere must fit the story. This is a cousin to our first point above about ignoring the rules of the genre. I see this one violated quite often even in somewhat better writing. But never in great writing.

I’ll give you some examples since this one’s a bit less concrete, but first, suffice it to say that if you’re writing a heartfelt down-home story about found family (like Anne of Green Gables), you need to use lovely, romantic, lyrical ways of expressing everything from the setting to the dialogue. If you, like me, write Gothic novels, your descriptions will also likely be romantic but with a dark undertone of melancholy and foreboding. Thrillers are often to the point, punchy, fast paced. Many of them have a sarcastic tone or a touch of cynicism. (Thrillers are, at their heart, about the question: who can I trust? which naturally lends itself to some cynicism or even despair.)

This applies to everything from character descriptions to settings, to action and even dialogue.

Scene from a Thriller

Example 1: Ineffective

The moon’s soft, vanilla light shone through the last of the season’s leaves, its light dancing as the leaves rustled in the wind. Behind her, Celia heard the footfalls of the man. She tucked her hair behind her ear and turned to run. The sound of cracking twigs filled the night air.

Beside her Laine whispered, “Sissy! He’s coming closer.”

“I know. I know. Hold my hand. We have to keep going.”

Example 2: Effective

Shards of cold moonlight stuck the last of the season’s leaves. Their dying forms clung to the trees, fighting against the rising wind. The shadows flashed across Celia’s eyes, mingling with a wayward strand of hair, blinding her eyes. Behind her a lumbering tread echoed in the woods. She spun from side to side searching for a familiar sight. The crack of a twig pierced the darkness.

Beside her Laine whispered, “Sissy! He’s coming!”

“Grab my hand! Quickly. Let’s go.”

Analysis

I’ve deliberately exaggerated the poor writing in the first example, but trust me, I’ve seen writing that’s this bad. What’s wrong with it?

For one, the descriptions are too soft and pleasant for a thriller. People don’t perceive the moonlight to be soft and vanilla when they’re terrified. Readers don’t feel that terror when writers describe the light as shining or dancing. Instead it should strike the leaves. Even the phrase night air is inappropriate and could just as easily be used at a lovely twilight picnic. I changed it to darkness.

With respect to the action, in the first (poor) example, the main character tucks her hair behind her ears. Sounds like an emotional day (every day) in seventh grade. I added in the character spinning around desperately looking for a landmark and the rising terror of the light and her hair blocking her ability to see where to run. Those set a mood/ tone that’s genre-consistent.

And lastly, in the first example the dialogue is far too profuse. When they’re running for their lives, characters don’t take their time to finish whole sentences. They punctuate their exclamations with quick, snappy dialogue that communicates more quickly. This, along with shorter sentence structure overall, also increases the sense of stress and terror that the readers experience.

The book I read—a mystery, you’ll recall—had a pleasant, day-at-the-beach sort of feel. Right after opening with two dead bodies. That’s just poor writing. Readers sense it. It’s discordant and it makes the entire mystery premise unbelievable…ruining everything the writer is working so hard to maintain.

#4: No Character Growth

Another way to wreck your novel is one that we’ll cover quickly because well, you already know this. We all do. Or should. Characters have to change. There are some genre-specific exceptions to this, but they’re becoming fewer and farther in between. Readers want to see characters forced to grow. The only exceptions I know of are really fast-paced stories such as Indiana Jones or various spy thrillers, especially those that take place in a relatively short time frame.

If this author had structured this novel so that the story was jam-packed with clues, twists and thrilling moments, many readers wouldn’t care about the flat character arc. Flat arcs do exist in the mystery genre. However, the way in which she structured the book almost entirely around relationships with no tension and no conflict, required growth. That’s all that’s left.

You have to give readers something. When in doubt, assume that you should always back your characters into a wall and force them to change, to face the past they’ve repressed, to reconcile themselves to what they’ve made of their lives, their relationships, their disappointments.

#5: Pointless Scenes

Lastly, the middle of a book, indeed every scene of a book, must move the plot forward. It must work towards your character’s growth and the proof of whatever theme you’re exploring. There shouldn’t be any scene in the book that doesn’t do all of these.

In the book that we’re discussing, I mentioned that the prologue tells of the discovery of the two bodies. The second to last chapter puts forth a supposed answer. The last chapter provides a twist and the true answer. The rest of the book has nothing to do with the story. Literally nothing. They scenes are just happy summer memories contrasted with an adulthood wallowing in self-pity. Granted the self-pity does have to do with past choices related to the individuals who died, but nothing to do with solving a mystery.

Conclusion

Yes, it’s shocking! Most failed books don’t fail on quite this scale. I hated this book. It was insufferable. I read it thinking that surely something will come of this mystery. There will be clues about what happened, at least in hindsight. The main character will look back and dig through her memories to piece together the riddle such that she finally uncovers what really happened. (She does figure it out at the last minute simply because the answer is dropped into her lap: another huge no no!)

Note that none of this has anything to do with grammar or sentence structure. The book was flawlessly edited and it was still terrible. I slogged through it simply to finish it (I’m that girl), but without any reason or meaning for most of the scenes, without any character change, tension, or conflict, it was painful.

I say all of this partly to vent but also because after it was all said and done I sat back and reminded myself that this is a great example of what we all need to remember not to do in our own writing!

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A Spoiler Free Review

Wow this year is flying by for me! As I mentioned in my last post, I’m in the middle of a nostalgic summer reading list. Find it here. But if you’ll recall, early this year, I named 2024 the Year of the Apocalypse and gave you a list of some of my favorite apocalyptic books as a suggested reading list. (That post is here.) Today I wanted to review one of these books – actually a series of books – that I really enjoyed: Kyla Stone’s Edge of Collapse series.

I’ve been wanting to write this post for a month or two because Kyla Stone impressed me. I believe that Ms. Stone is a self-published author. She writes under Paper Moon Press publishing, but as far as I can tell, it’s her own publishing arm. Normally I’m not a fan of self-published books (despite my own publishing preferences) due to the quality…or lack thereof in so many of these books. However, this series reads as if it’s traditionally published. Hence why I’m doubly impressed with Ms. Stone’s writing.

Overview

Global Perspective

If you’ve read much apocalyptic fiction, you know that each author takes a slightly different approach to the sub-genre. Some authors such as Robert McCammon in Swan Song or Justin Cronin’s The Passage trilogy portray a very global view of the crisis. They move from character to character, presenting the overall story from successive viewpoints. However, the story’s focus is on the national landscape and how the catalytic event has affected the country and its people as a whole. In stories such as these, individual characters come and go more frequently as we follow their stories and then see many of them meet an untimely demise in the wake of the destruction.

Local Perspective

Other author such as William Forstchen in his One Second After/ John Matherson trilogy (a fourth book is coming in February 2025) take a closer, community focus. In his books, John Matherson, a retired U.S. Army Colonel-turned-college professor of military history, takes the leadership role of a small community in the mountains of North Carolina after an EMP shuts down the U.S. power grid. Though the story is generally told from John’s perspective, the focus is on the local community and the many struggles they face and the means that they employ to survive.

Deeply Personal Perspective

In contrast, Kyla Stone’s novels come in much closer. In this series, she does something I’ve never seen: she pairs a national EMP event with a very intimate thriller. The effect is a series that’s both deeply personal and brimming with suspense.

In the story, Hannah Sheridan, who for the last five years has been held as a prisoner deep in Manistee National Forest in Michigan, walks free when the EMP unlocks the doors of her prison. But she has many things to face before she can even begin to consider the national crisis. First, she’s trying to make it home on foot in the heart of a brutally cold winter. Second, she’s pregnant. And third, the psychopath who kept her a prisoner, is hunting her.

What’s Great

Character

The story itself is riveting, but the thing that stands out even more is Ms. Stone’s ability to craft characters. Her characters are so real and larger than life. They each have very distinct voices and make choices that are consistent with their individual worldviews.

Many of them also change throughout the series. Some change in large ways, others in more subtle ones, but always in a very believable progression as they battle with their circumstances and their inner demons.

Pacing

These stories are never boring. The pacing is neither too fast nor too slow. Rather, the story moves at a gripping level of constant engagement. Readers will find the hair-raising clip of a thriller combined with pauses for reflection, moments of difficult emotion and opportunities for character interaction. Combined with these, Ms. Stone peppers in a fair number of ways in which the citizens of Hannah’s hometown, Fall Creek, learn to live off the grid. Despite that, she maintains the suspense and overall tension throughout the series.

Writing

The Edge of Collapse series isn’t written in a literary style, which may be a relief to some readers or a disappointment to others. That said, this is solid genre fiction. It reads very smoothly and has more character depth and growth than I see in the average thriller. I’d place it somewhere between good genre fiction and upmarket/ literary genre fiction.

That said, it’s very immersive. Ms. Stone has an effortless writing style that grips the reader and asks her to care in such a way that it’s really no question or difficulty at all.

What’s Not So Great

There isn’t much that isn’t great about this series and the only two that I can think of are simply a matter of preference.

The first is that, as I mentioned above, Ms. Stone’s writing style isn’t literary such as that of Justin Cronin’s Passage trilogy or Dan Simmons’s novels (esp. Summer of Night, Carrion Comfort, The Terror). For some readers, that’s a must-have or at least a strong preference. I can’t speak for everyone but I will say that I’m usually one of those people. I strongly prefer literary-quality genre fiction and generally avoid anything else. Still, I really enjoyed this series. It has so much going for it that I’d recommend it even to the literary lovers.

The second is that, again mentioned above, this is a very close/ personal perspective of a national incident. There will be readers who really only enjoy an apocalyptic story that’s portrayed on a larger scale. If that’s you, this isn’t the series for you. However, I’d wager to guess that most apocalyptic readers don’t feel quite as strongly about this one.

Conclusion

I would recommend this series to anyone who enjoys apocalyptic storytelling or thrillers. I was extremely surprised and impressed with Ms. Stone’s ability to hold my attention over seven books.

11 of the Best Books for Summer

I love a seasonal book list and even though most of my Gothic reading choices fit more snuggly in fall and winter, when I think of summer, the first thing I think of is reading. I’m sure that goes back to the Scholastic Magazine they sent home with us at the end of each elementary school year. I poured over every book title and description, selecting a monstrous heap for my summer reading pleasure. (My parents were extremely flexible with the book budget.) Ever since then, I think of summer as a season to be spent lying on a dock by the lake or under a sheet tent in the living room during a thunderstorm with a book in my hand. Long way of saying: I have a 2024 summer reading list that I’m sharing with you here for your inspiration as well.

You’ll probably note that many of these are nostalgic. Summer always strikes in me a desire to look back, even to eras prior to my own. In my heart I’m in an early 20th century Craftsman bungalow, listening to big band music and lying on a bed on the sleeping porch, an oscillating fan on the table beside me and the crickets chirping in the long, lazy dusk. Enjoy!

Descriptions are taken from Amazon unless otherwise noted. Links to purchase are in each title.

When Percy returns to the lake for Sam’s mother’s funeral, their connection is as undeniable as it had always been. But until Percy can confront the decisions she made and the years she’s spent punishing herself for them, they’ll never know whether their love might be bigger than the biggest mistakes of their past. 

Told over the course of six years and one weekend, Every Summer After is a big, sweeping nostalgic story of love and the people and choices that mark us forever.

Then, one cold spring morning, Cory and his father witness a car plunge into a lake—and a desperate rescue attempt brings his father face-to-face with a terrible, haunting vision of death. As Cory struggles to understand his father’s pain, his eyes are slowly opened to the forces of good and evil that surround him. From an ancient mystic who can hear the dead and bewitch the living, to a violent clan of moonshiners, Cory must confront the secrets that hide in the shadows of his hometown—for his father’s sanity and his own life hang in the balance…

Determined to find his sister, Johnny risks everything to explore the dark side of his hometown. It is a desperate, terrifying search, but Johnny is not as alone as he might think. Detective Clyde Hunt has never stopped looking for Alyssa either, and he has a soft spot for Johnny. He watches over the boy and tries to keep him safe, but when Johnny uncovers a dangerous lead and vows to follow it, Hunt has no choice but to intervene.

Will she return to the place that continues to haunt her memories in search of answers, or will the secrets of Shady Oaks stay buried forever?

When the elder Mrs. Wilcox dies and her family discovers she has left their country home—Howards End—to one of the Schlegel sisters, a crisis between the two families is precipitated that takes years to resolve.

Written in 1910, Howards End is a symbolic exploration of the social, economic, and intellectual forces at work in England in the years preceding World War I, a time when vast social changes were occurring. In the Schlegels and the Wilcoxes, Forster perfectly embodies the competing idealism and materialism of the upper classes, while the conflict over the ownership of Howards End represents the struggle for possession of the country’s future. As critic Lionel Trilling once noted, the novel asks, “Who shall inherit England?”

Forster refuses to take sides in this conflict. Instead he poses one of the book’s central questions: In a changing modern society, what should be the relation between the inner and outer life, between the world of the intellect and the world of business? Can they ever, as Forster urges, “only connect”?

Lush, lyrical, and unnerving, The God of Small Things is an award-winning landmark that started for its author an esteemed career of fiction and political commentary that continues unabated.

With concerns about the child’s home situation, Jo reluctantly agrees to let her stay―just until she learns more about Ursa’s past.

Jo enlists the help of her reclusive neighbor, Gabriel Nash, to solve the mystery of the charming child. But the more time they spend together, the more questions they have. How does a young girl not only read but understand Shakespeare? Why do good things keep happening in her presence? And why aren’t Jo and Gabe checking the missing children’s website anymore?

Though the three have formed an incredible bond, they know difficult choices must be made. As the summer nears an end and Ursa gets closer to her fifth miracle, her dangerous past closes in. When it finally catches up to them, all of their painful secrets will be forced into the open, and their fates will be left to the stars.

Here Jack discovers “Twinners,” reflections of the people he knows on earth—most notably Queen Laura, the Twinner of Jack’s own imperiled mother. As Jack “flips” between worlds, making his way westward toward the redemptive Talisman, a sequence of heart-stopping encounters challenges him at every step.

An unforgettable epic of adventure and resounding triumph, The Talisman is one of the most influential and highly praised works of fantasy ever written.

The next two books are re-reads for me, but I love, love, love them and can’t recommend them enough.

Strange and horrifying events begin to overtake everyday life, spreading terror through the once idyllic town. Determined to exorcize this ancient plague, Mike, Duane, Dale, Harlen, and Kevin must wage a war of blood―against an arcane abomination who owns the night…

How You Can Use These Plot Structures

Circular plotting is an oft-used means of structuring a book. A ring structure, also known as a symmetrical plot or a chiastic structure, is a lesser known, but more detailed structuring device. If you’ve ever been confused about the differences, how to use them or why you’d want to use one or the other, you’re in the right place. Stay with me as we examine both circular versus symmetrical plotting.

Circular Structure

If you watch movies, circular plot structures are already part of your intuition, regardless of whether or not you’ve recognized it. I’d be willing to bet that most if not nearly all movies have something of a circular structure. Why? Because it feels complete.

The essence of this type of plotting is that the protagonist’s journey starts and ends in approximately the same place (either the setting itself and/or the type of situation) and yet the character has changed and the conflict is over. I’ll give you an example.

Plot Spoilers Ahead!

War Horse

The movie begins with the hardships of the main character and his family on their failing farm. To make a long (but good) story short, the protagonist’s father buys this splendid but impractical horse at auction. However, Albert bonds with the horse and manages to train him to plough their fields, saving the family from bankruptcy.

That would be a short story if it wasn’t for the war. After all of the drama of the battles and his fight to survive, Albert is reunited with his horse. In the last scene of the movie, he and Joey return home to the family’s farm. That’s what makes this a circular plot: the beginning shows Albert’s trials on the farm, his lack of maturity and the loss of his horse. The ending shows him returning to the farm wiser, reunited to his horse and [as it’s implied] certain to triumph going forward. The story comes full circle.

Ring/ Symmetrical Structure

A ring/ symmetrical/ chiastic structure—three terms that refer to the same thing—takes this circularity to a much greater degree. At its essence, it’s a plotting structure in which the second half of the book (or series!) mirrors the first.

I particularly like Nate Listrom’s graphic (above) which he based off of K.M. Weiland’s series of articles about chiastic or symmetrical structuring. You can find more of her articles about employing this structure here:

https://www.helpingwritersbecomeauthors.com/the-power-of-chiastic-story-structure-especially-in-series

Notice from above that the reader should see (regardless of whether she consciously notices or not) the resolution as a reflection of the hook, the third plot point as a reflection of the first one and so on. This doesn’t mean that the two are two versions of the same incident. Rather, in the opposing one, the author shows how the characters have changed by giving readers a different view of the same type of incident. We’ll get into more of that below.

This method isn’t necessarily restricted to major plot points. It can be carried down the scene level. Susan Raab’s graphic of the 1991 movie, Beauty and the Beast, is a great example of a story that uses a scene-by-scene symmetrical structure.

In order to help you interpret this, especially if you haven’t seen the movie or it’s been awhile (frankly, it has been awhile), the story begins at the bottom middle point, and then progresses clockwise. For example:

1. At the beginning of the story the spell is cast: a witch transforms the prince into a beast
2. The writers show Belle choosing books above everyone else
3. Viewers see the response of the townspeople (they think she’s strange because she isn’t content with the provincial life that they enjoy)
4. etc.

…after the midpoint, when Belle chooses to love, each of the story’s subsequent actions mirrors those in the first half. Some of these are:

• Rather than Belle rejecting the Beast’s dinner invitation, as she did in the first half, she invites the Beast to dinner (he accepts)
• As Belle had rescued Maurice (her eccentric, inventor father) early in the story, at the opposite point in the story (timing-wise) she comes to the Beast’s rescue
• In the end, Belle chooses the Beast over books
• As a result, the spell is broken

The Mirror

As you can see, some of these events are more reflective (two views of the same type of event) rather than opposing. However, regardless of how the mirroring works, it acts to show change. Look at each of the events above (from Beauty and the Beast) and note how the writers show both Belle and the Beast growing in different ways.

For example, Belle is particularly insular prior to her imprisonment in the Beast’s castle. Early on she comes to her father’s rescue by following him to the Beast’s castle and offering herself as the prisoner in his place. Later she comes to the Beast’s rescue as the townspeople seek to destroy him. These two scenes seem virtually identical with swapped recipients of Belle’s benevolence. But on closer examination, we see that Belle is stepping out of her provincial world—the very thing she said that she wanted to do in the very first scene—and coming to the aid of someone who isn’t a family member.

In another example, note the Beast’s character growth. In the first half of the story, he imprisons Belle in her father’s place. This is consistent with his selfish and ruthless character at the start of the story. However, later he releases Belle so that she can rescue her father [again!]. We see his concern for both of them—a distinct difference from the beast we knew at the beginning.

While these two examples are both very character-centric, other mirroring incidents are more plot-centric such as Maurice’s awkward wood-chopping invention in the beginning that leads him to his imprisonment. Later though, Chip is able to use that invention is to rescue Maurice and Belle from the cellar.

The Value of Symmetrical Plotting

This type of symmetrical plotting feels balanced and satisfying. For one, readers detect that each of the open threads in the story is fully addressed. Each time you show them a before picture of the character, they later receive an after image that closes the loop.

For another, it gives meaning to every aspect of the novel. That funny scene with Belle’s father and his wood-chopping invention comes full circle in the end. It ends up being one of the necessary keys to their escape. Rather than being simply comedic, it’s there for a reason. Readers love when everything has meaning. I think that’s intuitive. We want to see all of the portions of our own lives have meaning and often, even if we believe that they do, we don’t see or understand what those meanings are. In literature, readers want that satisfaction.

How Can We Use this Type of Structure

The key to doing this well is to understand the heart of the story.

Action Plots

Action-driven plots are more straightforward and the symmetry will be as well. However, you don’t want to have exact replicas of each scene in the second half of the story.

Let’s say you’re writing a story about an art heist. Your protagonist is a master thief. In the beginning of the book he steals a car so that his identity is covered in case someone tails him. However, the robbery goes wrong in many ways, including his car being impounded. At the end, he fools the security mastermind who believes that his art gallery is foolproof and gets away by stealing his Lamborghini. He could have escaped in any number of ways, but using another stolen car resonates with his history in a satisfying and humorous way.

Character Plots

If you’re writing a more character-driven novel, perhaps a Horror story (yes, Horror is a character genre; you can read about the relatable, human underpinnings of the genre here: The Relatable Side of Horror), you’ll want to get at the heart of the character’s growth.

Let’s say you’re writing a story about a woman who’s haunted by a female ghost. The story escalates from small-scale torment to life-threatening physical attacks. Readers eventually learn that the protagonist has a history of self-centered actions that often betrayed the confidence and trust of others, especially her supposed closest female friends. This reached a high point many years prior when she abandoned a friend in need so that the other woman had to make her way home alone from a party in the middle of the night. As a result, her friend was brutally raped and murdered. It’s this woman’s ghost who’s now haunting her.

Of course, if you understand the bones of the Horror genre, you know that the ghost is really just the tangible form of the protagonist’s guilt. She knows that she’s in the wrong (or should) and she hasn’t dealt with her former actions. Because of this, the guilt has finally reared its head and is going to traumatize her until she confesses or atones for and amends her ways.

All of this information is crucial because it will dictate how you build a symmetrical structure. In the first half of the book, your main character is simply reacting to this new violentr force in her life. She’s running from it, maybe trying to understand it, denying it, etc. but she isn’t battling it. Not in any sense of actually owning up to her prior guilt.

However, after the second half of the story, she begins to engage in the conflict in a more active way, which includes uncovering the guilt that she previously buried and has since denied. Your symmetrical scenes might look something like:

1st half: perhaps in her workplace she overtly throws someone under the bus or damages this other person’s reputation by allowing a false assumption to go unchallenged because it would cost her something.

2nd half: she goes out on a limb to side with someone, placing herself in the hot seat with them because she knows that this person is in the right, or has been wrongly accused of something.

1st half: maybe she’s having an affair (notice that this is consistent with, but different from her primary problem: her unfaithfulness and selfishness; you’re examining and demonstrating her flaw from multiple angles). Her husband is blithely unaware and is the laughingstock of the neighborhood. He senses that something is wrong, but is ignorant to his wife’s actions.

2nd half: she sees the error of her ways and breaks off the affair. She confesses all to her husband, knowing that it might be the end of her marriage, a relationship that she desperately wants and would hate to lose.

Timing

Notice that none of these examples are truly revolutionary. Most of us know to include this sort of round closure in our stories. However, that doesn’t mean that we always do so as completely as a symmetrical story requires. It also doesn’t mean that our timing lines up with the symmetrical/ mirrored structure that we saw above.

A symmetrical/ ring/ chiastic plot structure uses this type of mirroring in exact (or nearly exact) timing. Meaning that if that opposing scene happens at the 5/8 point, the symmetrical scene should have happened at the 3/8 point (directly opposite one another in the two halves of the story).

There’s a certain instinctual satisfaction when the reader experiences this symmetry. It’s like a circular plot. We use this type of structuring because it reads well. It feels good to the audience. The pieces are all in order, the story is complete.

Conclusion

Using a symmetrical plot structure is a choice. You don’t have to do so, but the rewards are evident. The popularity of books like the Harry Potter series that’s symmetrical at the scene level across the entire series (yes, across books) is undeniable and much of that is probably due to the satisfaction of the tight plotting.

In addition, symmetrical plotting gives the writer a huge advantage: it tells you what you need to do across the entire story. If you open with that work scene in which our character implicitly betrays a coworker, or that art thief steals a car, you know what type of scene to include in the second half of the story and exactly where to place it.

The key is to brainstorm ways (especially in a character-based story) to open or close that loop so that the scene reflects the heart of the opposite one without looking identical and while showing the appropriate degree of character change for that point in the story.

I find this means of plotting extremely liberating, but I have a very structured personality and I thrive off of plans. I recognize that it’s not for everyone, but give it a try and see if it works for you. If so, it can only help you. And if you have used this type of plotting before, let me know. I’d love to hear about your experience!

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How to Make [Almost] Any Story Work

If you’re a new-ish writer, you’ve probably heard the adage that all of your books should [at least roughly] fit into your chosen corner of the literary world. That means that if you’re building an audience based on Fantasy Romance, you shouldn’t switch over to Horror. At least not under the same pen name (brand). Whether or not you agree or adhere to that advice, you may have faced the same problem many of us have: every idea we have doesn’t necessarily fall into the genre puzzle like the next missing piece. What are we to do? There’s hope. I can tell you how to fit almost all of your ideas into your preferred genre.

First a note though: I’m not suggesting that there’s no possibility for deviation. For example, if you write Horror and then want to try some Dark Fantasy, your audience is probably cool with that. Many of the readers in either of those genres would also enjoy novels in the other. But few Horror readers want to read a Coming-of-Age story with touches of romance.

Blend the Two

However, even if your ideas are that disparate, there’s a way to mesh them. You just have to be flexible.

Idea #1

Let’s say that you’ve written two or three Historical Mysteries but this Coming-of-Age story just won’t leave you alone. I wouldn’t recommend writing it in a traditional sense—the modern-day, character story that’s likely for YA readers. And I wouldn’t recommend adopting a new pen name and doing so either. Early in your career, that would be too much of a hurdle. You’d have to build an entirely new market following, none of whom know anything about you.

But…you can modify your story idea so that it’s only slightly tangential rather than a complete departure from your genre. Make it a historical Coming-of-Age story with at least a touch of mystery.

Take your characters, set them in historical setting and, while they’re struggling to come to terms with their maturation and all of the life changes that come with that, give them a mystery to solve. You can tone down the historical details somewhat so that they’re more of an issue of the setting rather than the central role that they play in Historical Fiction. Likewise, the mystery component will likely be less intense than in a more traditional Mystery. However, it will hopefully fall close enough to your existing work(s) that your readers won’t wonder what happened to their beloved author.

Idea #2

But what about those ideas that seem to be radically different such as the one I mentioned before—the case in which you’re a Horror author but want to write a Romance. Better yet: a Coming-of-Age Romance, which seems even farther afield.

Stand back from the two and look at the underpinnings. As Jessica Brody so deftly identified in Save the Cat! Writes a Novel, a Horror story is about a secret sin. It might be something one of the characters has done in the past, or something that a larger figure has inflicted on their community, the country or even the world (as in Swan Song by Robert McCammon). In the Horror novel, some form of monster—human or otherwise—takes the tangible form of that sin. The characters struggle against the monster until they’re able to conquer it and address the sin that to-date remains unaddressed.

There’s no reason why the characters can’t be young ones and that their struggles can’t drive them together romantically. The resulting story won’t look like a traditional coming-of-age story like The Fault in Our Stars or If I Stay and it can’t. Your audience isn’t going to accept that great a departure from what they want from you (Horror). But it can still be a great story with the characters and the love affair that you want to write.

Major on Your Strengths

Another option that might seem similar to the one we just discussed but isn’t necessarily is to consider what you really bring to the table. I’ll use myself as an example.

My first work of fiction is a Historical Gothic Mystery. If I were to want to depart from that genre, I’d need to consider why my readers love my writing. I know something about what that might be because of my editor and others who have commented on my strengths and what really shines in my writing. I’ve been told that my writing is very atmospheric and that I’m “a master of suspense.” I also love plot twists and I tend to write on a deeply symbolic level.

I’ve had a huge idea that I’ve been working on for years. Originally I envisioned it as more of a traditional epic Fantasy series (somewhere around twelve books). But the more I work up to something on that scale, the more I realize that I’ll have more fun with it and will produce a better product if I stick with the things I do well.

Twisting the story (not that hard given what I’m working on) to make it more of a Dark Fantasy chock-full of plot twists and suspense is a no-brainer. And there’s a great possibility that my readers will love it just as much since it includes the very things they’re looking for in my writing.

But I could also write in other genres as well as long as I remember to major in suspense, plot twists in an atmospheric setting. That might be a Paranormal Romance or even a Science Fiction novel so long as it’s lighter on the SciFi and heavier on the other elements.

Sequel/ Prequel/ Extension

If you’re hell-bent on writing that hugely different tale under your existing brand, the only other way to make it work is to tie it into your existing work in some way. For example, let’s say you’re working on a series of thrillers featuring the same main character(s). It’s possible to write an extension story about someone your readers already love.

Perhaps in the first three books your main character garnered the support of a local police detective. At the end of the third book, they conquer that foe and the detective decides to retire and become a school teacher in a small town. He’s battle worn and has seen enough trauma for several lifetimes.

If your readers love that character, it’s likely that a lot of them will want to read more about his life after he retires from hunting monsters. He could very well strike up a romance with another teacher or a local barista. Your extension story might show the difficulty he has trusting people. After all, thrillers are, at their core, about ascertaining who’s trustworthy.

Or you could write a prequel about how he got to the point of being a master monster hunter in the first place. Imagine how psychologically rich that could be.

A Separate Brand

You get the point. For a significant off-brand work to succeed, it’ll need to appeal to your existing readers in some way. It’ll need to tie in due to a merger of genres, common underpinnings (your style), or a character or plot extension.

Otherwise you’re going to need to employ a different pen name. That comes with its own share of difficulties such as having to reestablish a market for your work. Lots of well-known authors do this and once you have an income base from your other work it isn’t as stressful. It gives writers the freedom to dabble in all of the areas they love the most.

If that’s you, don’t be afraid to do this, but if you’re just starting out, know that it may come with a lot of stress and difficulty. If you can shelve your ideas for later when you’re not trying to build a career based on your existing brand, you’ll have a much easier road.

Long way of saying: you can and should write whatever you want to write, but don’t try to write wildly off-brand pieces under the same name. Readers rarely accept it and it’ll undermine your success. Build a consistent brand name and let that name compound your readership so that you have a base under your feet before you veer off course.

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What I Liked About It & Whether I’d Recommend It

Synopsis

World War Z is a fictional account of a decade-long zombie war. However, it’s told by the survivors, after the war is over. It’s also told as a series of interviews, as if the writer is a journalist traveling the world and collecting the stories of what they endured.

It’s organized chronologically beginning with the initial outbreak in China and ending with the final war and the aftermath. Brooks moves from one interviewee to another so that each scene is told from a certain character’s perspective. Other than a few closing remarks from some of these at the end of the book, we never hear from a given character a second time after their scene is over. This lack of any character arcs is quite distinct from a typical novel.

The zombies are also distinct in that they possess finer motor skills than I’ve seen in other zombie tales such as The Walking Dead. In Brooks’s zombie world, the undead are able to open doors, climb walls, and maneuver around obstacles more adeptly than readers might expect. This makes them more of a threat. They’re harder to obstruct, elude and kill.

But did I like it? Yes and no.

What I Liked

Character Voices

Brooks’s ability to tell a story in a slightly different voice across so many characters stood out. For example, the compassionate and pragmatic doctor, Kwang Jingshu tells his story in an observant, compliant manner. He’s reserved, a bit skeptical, but eager to help once he sees how great the need is. His tale is told in a relatively matter-of-fact manner befitting a man of science.

In contrast, Philip Adler, the battle-worn West German soldier whose general ordered them to abandon the civilians, recounts his portion of the tale with all of the bitterness you might expect from someone who felt compelled to do what he knew was wrong. We meet up with him in the likeliest of places: on a pilgrimage to see the pope at Saint Patrick’s Cathedral. His story is one laced with emotion and regret.

Since this is a story of a war-torn land and its survivors, all of the characters have something of a battle-hardened perspective. However, within that cross-section, Brooks manages a fairly broad range of perspectives that I found impressive.

Military Knowledge

If all you know about Max Brooks is that he’s the son of Mel Brooks, you’ll be blown away by his knowledge of both military operations and strategy. I’ll admit that I knew nothing about him prior to reading this book. However, when you discover that he holds dual fellowships at the Atlantic Council’s Brent Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security and the Modern War Institute at West Point, it all makes sense. [You can find more information about him here.]

This is a man who knows a lot about warfare. And it shows. What the book lacks in character arcs it makes up for in a deep knowledge of military tactics, weapons and strategy. Thus the story comes across as profoundly realistic, perhaps even predictive.

Geographical Breadth

And lastly, my favorite aspect of the book is its geographic scale. Brooks takes readers across every continent on earth, to islands in the ocean, on ships, and to many different countries. I’m the type of reader who researches as I read. (I can’t resist.) I learned about so many different places despite the fact that we visit each one for only that character’s relatively brief scene.

This gives the book a truly epic and global feel.

What I Didn’t Like

Character

If you read for character, this book might disappoint you. Though the range of character voices is great, readers see each character for only a few pages. There’s no character change or growth at all. After all, they’re telling a brief synopsis of their participation in the war. Since the story is told in retrospect, there’s really no chance for that character journey that’s the beating heart of almost all literature.

That makes this novel profoundly different. We also hardly see any character relationships or the ways in which different people move through life together. There were moments of bitter disappointment or regret—characters who were left despairing rather than hoping for the future. However, it’s quite minimal compared to what we’re used to seeing in a novel.

Distance

And my least favorite aspect of the book is the distance from the story. As much as I enjoyed the geographical journey and Brooks’s military acumen impressed me, I was almost never immersed in the story. This goes hand-in-hand with the character matter I just mentioned. Since the story is told in retrospect and we aren’t traveling in the shoes of a given character or two, I always felt as if I was removed from the story.

That meant that it wasn’t terribly suspenseful, the story didn’t grip me, and I didn’t feel like I had any real emotional experience while reading it.

Did I like It/ Would I Recommend It

So did I like it? No, for the most part I didn’t. I respect it, but it isn’t a story I’d revisit for an enjoyable literary experience.

HOWEVER, that doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t recommend it. It really depends on what kind of reader you are. I know a lot of people who love military history or strategy along with weapons and tactics. Someone like that would probably eat this up.

I’d even recommend it to those readers who are more like myself: lovers of literary-quality genre fiction. This is a smart book. There’s a lot that I appreciate about it and Brooks’s style despite the fact that it’ll never be one of my favorites.

If you’ve read it, leave me a comment. I’d love to hear what you did or didn’t like about it and whether it was your cup of tea!

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How I Get Out of the Rut!

I’m working on a book right now: The Monster of Vienna. It’s a great book-to-be with a huge character arc (two of them), boatloads of suspense and an intriguing cat-and-mouse chase. I’m in the chair every day, working on it. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t sometimes find myself stuck in a rut. Sometimes the rut is just slow, sloth-like progress. Other times it’s something like a dense brain fog in which all of my ideas scatter like vapor in the mist. I can’t seem to grasp onto any of them. So what do I do? Well, it depends, but there are several methods that work for me when I need to know how to fix writer’s block!

Place

A Change of Scenery

If you’re like me, you sit in the same, or very nearly the same, place every time you write. I sit at my big table in my office. It’s a great space with lots of room to spread out my notebooks and a mug of coffee or tea and a gazillion sticky notes, etc. But sometimes it feels just a little staid. A little too predictable, especially in the conceptual and brainstorming phases of my work.

That’s when getting out to a library or coffee shop can really help. Sometimes a new setting goes hand-in-hand with the free flow of new ideas. Worst case: you get a great cup of coffee or a new book to go.

Into AutoPilot

Have you ever been on a plane or train or in a car and you found that your creative ideas seemed to pour out of you? I have on multiple occasions. There’s actually science behind why this works. It has a lot to do with the same reason some artists drink a lot or use drugs (I don’t recommend either). When we’re doing something active but relatively mindless our “left brain” (the logical, executive portion of our mind) is occupied. That frees up our creative mind to explore.

Dr Shelley Carson, researcher and lecturer at Harvard University, and author of Your Creative Brain, explains that getting into the car and driving can be just the thing to unlock your creativity. Ideally you want quiet roads without lots of traffic or stop lights— things that require your constant focus.

What definitely helps is holding all the information you need in your brain before you reach for the keys. ‘You want to prime what I call your inner repository of your brain with all the information that you might need,’ says Dr Carson. ‘Say you’re writing a book and you’re blocked. Go over as much about your problem as you can, then take a break from it for a while before you go on your ride.

Your brain will start automatically putting things together in what I call the research and development parts of your brain. Then you’re just waiting for the opportunity to bring that into consciousness, which is what the drive is going to provide for you.’

Ganatra, Shilpa. For outside the box ideas, get inside the car. Why driving makes you more creative.

A Change in Schedule

For me, one of the best times for novel ideas and problem-solving is at night. Like really, really late. This is essentially the same concept as the idea above about putting the more logical, executive function of the brain to sleep. As this can happen in a monotonous setting like driving a car on a long, quiet road, it can also happen when we’re really tired.

I usually write during the day. I keep a relatively normal work schedule albeit I might start and end my work day a little later to allow for morning chores. But when I’m in a rut, forcing myself to switch my schedule can be invaluable. This is especially true in a more creative stage of the process such as when I’m trying to decide where the plot should go, or how a character should get out of a given situation.

Inspiration

Warm-Ups

Writers are (or should be) like athletes. I ran cross-country and track in high school and I can tell you that we never went for a run or even did short sprints without first stretching and walking briskly. The human body doesn’t transition well from inertia to full exertion. Ligaments tear, muscles cramp and then you’re out of the game.

In writing, the consequences of not doing some form of warm-up may not be quite so severe, but it can mean never getting off the block. Sitting there for hours in a brain fog. And frankly, that leaves you out of the game too.

What constitutes a warm-up will vary from writer to writer. You’ll have to give different things a try and find what works for you. And if one thing ceases to be effective, try again and find a new way of exercising your writing muscles. Here are some tried and true options:

• Doodling – literally drawing shapes
• Free-form writing – pick a subject either about something in your book, a character or scene you’re working on, or something from your life and just write for 30 minutes or so
• Rereading/ editing the prior section – some authors read over the prior chapter that they wrote, sometimes making minor edits to get their head in the right space. (Avoid major edits or you’ll never move on and will find yourself in the same place the next time you sit down to write.)
• Writing prompts – Follow people who put out writing prompts (or make your own) and allot a specific amount of time to work on it before diving into your regular writing.

The 5 Senses

Many authors swear by a certain playlist for each novel. They’ll create a virtual soundtrack that fits the mood of their work and gets them into the story. Others love to have a certain candle lit or a mug of their favorite tea so that the fragrance and the warmth relaxes them and helps them to focus. If you feel most in tune with your writing by having a character or storyboard that you’ve created and hung on the wall, do so.

Other writers like to spend some time working out before writing. Not only does this relax them, it also helps them to de-stress and to get some perspective about other things that tend to occupy our minds when we need to be working.

Sensitive to External Stimuli

On the flip side of the coin, some writers are particularly sensitive to external stimuli. I’m one such writer. I can handle (and enjoy) a candle flickering next to me, but I usually need to put on noise canceling headphones with some form of white noise: the sound of rain, a box fan, a river running over the rocks. Anything very monotonous that helps me to close out the world.

For the same reason, I would choose the dark corner of a library over a coffee shop any day. A closet is even better. I tend to close the curtains around my office when I’m working. There’s nothing like really closing off the external world to help me focus. The key here is to find what works for you.

Method

If you ever listen to very established writers talk about their methods, some say that they can only brainstorm and plot their story on paper. Others can only write the first draft on paper. Still others do everything in a computer. But some might use a writing software like Scrivener to both brainstorm and write. In contrast, some writers need to see their plotting (if they do that) in a format like Word or Excel before they can write the book.

I’ve found that my brain flies when I brainstorm on paper. That includes the initial ideas about the book and the scene plans. I then transfer these to Scrivener, clean everything up so that the story fits into a solid framework. After that, I write my first draft (and subsequent ones) in Scrivener.

But what about when I run into a problem?

If I find that a character idea isn’t working out as well as I had initially envisioned or I need to strengthen a portion of the story during the rewriting process, I often have to return to paper. The reason for this is that, for whatever reason, I feel constrained by the computer when I’m brainstorming. It feels final, as if I can’t put anything down until I have the finished idea.

I have no idea why I would think this since I always do quite a few extensive rewrites before the book is final. But it is what it is. Knowing that means that instead of trying to fix the problem and wasting hours accomplishing nothing, I immediately pull out my notebook. I’m learning how my mind works best and how to flip back and forth between the methods that get me the best results.

The Conclusion: You + Flexibility

Which leads me to the last comment I’ve learned: flexibility is essential. What works for another writer may or may not work for you and I. What works for one process or problem doesn’t always work for another. The song or environment that inspires me the most for one story or scene, may not do so for any other. I’ve learned that I have to be more flexible than I would naturally be. I have to try various things until something garners the best results.

However, as I move forward, I’ve discovered enough about myself to know what’s more likely to help. That means that I’m able to find the solution more quickly and am able to get myself out of the rut that I’m in so that I don’t suffer from writer’s block!

Let me know what works for you and what you’ve learned about yourself on your writer journey.

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A Review of Wendy Webb’s Daughters of the Lake

Spoiler Free! Proceed without concern.

Synopsis

Webb tells the story in two parallel time periods. In the present day, it follows the story of Kate Granger who’s in the middle of a divorce. She has just returned home for the rest and emotional recovery that she so desperately needs. Instead, she stumbles upon the body of a woman that has washed up on the shore of Lake Superior. The problem is Kate recognizes her from her recent dreams. When she discovers that the woman lived more than a hundred years ago, Kate sets out to unravel the mystery of this poor woman’s death.

Simultaneously, the story follows Addie Cassatt, the young woman who met an untimely end in the lake’s embrace. As Kate uncovers Addie’s life, her connections and who might have wanted her dead, we see the alternate version: the first-hand story through Addie’s eyes.

Elements

This book falls under the Gothic Historical Mystery category. It has a bit of a lot of things in it. On the surface, it’s a mystery: who was Addie and why did she die? It has a great sense of time and place. I particularly enjoyed reading about a place—the upper Midwest—that doesn’t often make it to the literary page.

There’s also an element of romance. As Kate seeks to understand Addie’s fate, she frequently collaborates with the local police detective, Nick Stone. It isn’t surprising that the two of them find enough common ground to begin dating.

There’s also an element of dark family secrets. I wrote an article about how important family secrets are to the Gothic genre and how they tie into Gothic themes. Check it out here:

How to Use Family Secrets to Enhance Theme

In Daughters of the Lake, Kate discovers that her ancestors who built the house to which she retreats and out of which her cousin Simon runs a bed and breakfast, were close friends with Addie. They’re part of Addie’s story and, as Kate will discover, part of her own in greater ways than she can imagine.

And lastly, Kate reads an old story about a French Canadian fur trapper whose daughter, Genevieve marries the the spirit of the lake. And that’s where the Gothic element enters the story and pulls it all together.

Theme

The book is an exploration of the draw that many of us feel towards something like a place such as, in this case, Lake Superior. Kate and Addie (and Genevieve in the story within a story) have a special relationship with the lake. They feel soothed in its presence, immune to its storms and even its often frigid temperature. Webb presents this as if the two women have an ancestral tie to the lake. As if they are the offspring of Genevieve and the spirit of the lake. When they approach the shore or enter the water, the spirit recognizes and shields them. They find solace and refuge rather than the tempestuous depths that others experience.

I could easily make the case that this is Gothic. It’s the type of irrational theme that most of us understand. How many of us can relate to this in one context or another—a place, be it a historical sight such as Machu Picchu, a geographical feature like old growth forests, or a certain time period as in the case of the ancient temples of Angkor Wat that acts like a siren call? It’s as if something within us recognizes and relates to that place or element in a way that’s more like memory than merely respect or a strong interest.

That’s the sort of connection that most of us understand to be true and yet none of us can explain. It transcends science and reason. That’s a Gothic theme.

Tropes

The dominant and only true trope in this story is Kate’s dreams. If you’ll recall from my explanation of the genre, to have a Gothic story, you have to have a Gothic theme (check) and the author needs to use Gothic tropes to make that intangible theme visible to the reader.

[For a reminder of the genre’s underpinnings, check out this article: What is Gothic Literature?]

Those tropes can be things like dark and stormy weather, madness, isolation, family secrets or beings such as vampires and ghosts (among others). However rather than being merely atmospheric or sensational props, these act in such a way that they make the theme more accessible to readers.

Kate’s dreams accomplish this in a sense and I love the parallel story telling that Webb uses. But that’s the most significant thing that would have made the book stronger: if she had incorporated another trope (or two) that tied into the theme more tightly. For instance, I would have worked with the spirit of the lake and found a way to bring him to life as a supernatural character.

Conclusion

I will admit that I knew who the murderer was relatively early (halfway, I think?) in the story, but I have a history of doing that. And I also write historical Gothic mysteries, so my mind tends to pick up all of the tells that other readers might miss.

Regardless, this was an enjoyable story and it’s worth checking out. I’d give it a solid 3.5 stars. Let me know what you enjoyed about it!

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Rarely Used Methods That Fit the Genre

Last time, we looked at some of the most common methods of murder in Gothic writing. Since the genre features a murder more often than not, we had numerous options from which to choose, including the most prevalent one—vampirism. In case you missed it, you can find the post here: Murder in Gothic Writing [Pt. 1]. Perhaps surprisingly though, there aren’t as many different means of murder as you might expect, at least in well-known works. Therefore, this week we’ll examine three relatively unique choices for a Gothic murder and why they would work well in this genre. I also touch on three methods that would be much harder to use.

Fire/ Immolation

Fire isn’t unheard of in Gothic writing. Fire (especially via sunlight) is used to destroy vampires in numerous works. However, non-vampiric murders via fire are less common. In the last post I mentioned Bertha’s attempt [twice] to murder Mr. Rochester via fire in Jane Eyre. Mrs. Danvers kills herself [not really murder] via fire in Rebecca. And there’s an attempted murder via fire in The Woman in White. It’s likely the most common option on my list of uncommon methods. However, murder via fire is still relatively rare in Gothic writing and it’s a good choice.

The reason for its fit in the genre is that burning something down tends to be inherently symbolic of so many themes that suit this style of writing. For example, consider the following types of themes:

• The desire to completely eradicate the past symbolized by a person, but perhaps also a place
• Purifying someone/ something, even oneself in order to be reborn in some way

Strangulation/ Suffocation

I can’t think of a single use of strangulation or suffocation in Gothic writing although I’m sure it’s there and I’m either forgetting it or just plain unaware. That said, it’s definitely rare and also fitting. In either case, a person’s voice and/or lungs are directly targeted. That’s oh so useful in so many ways. It would work with any theme that ties into the suppression of a person’s [figurative] voice/ expression, or in cases in which a character has no freedom (no room to breathe). For example:

• A child (or spouse) strangles an oppressive parent (or lover) as a symbol of her constant struggle for freedom
• A serial killer who for any number of possible reasons, feels unheard and strangles his victims as a means of finding his own voice

Hunting/ Game Playing

This last suggestion is the type of thing you may have seen in movies more often than on the page. Dan Simmons utilized it well in Carrion Comfort. In the book, Nazi leaders play a deadly form of human chess with their Jewish prisoners. As the colonels battle one another on the life-size chess board, any time one man takes another’s “piece” he kills the prisoner standing in that place.

This type of murder could also involve intentionally freeing a captive solely for the sport of hunting him or her. I think you can instantly see why this is fitting, but consider the following themes:

• A monarch or political leader who, with his elite class of nobles, hunts the common people rather than deer as a symbol of their view of commoners as either expendable or even worthless
• A nurse who resents her inability to be a doctor and to control other’s lives. Each day she plays a form of Russian roulette with her patients, choosing one to die

Methods that Wouldn’t Work As Well?

Let’s briefly touch on three types of methods that would be harder to use.

First, and most obviously, any form of raw brutality – beating, bludgeoning, dismemberment – will be tricky because it tends to take the focus away from the subtle, unseen Gothic theme. At the very least, these won’t parallel this sort of theme and therefore will likely feel out of proportion with the rest of the work.

Second, most on-the-nose methods of murder such as shooting or stabbing are too lacking in nuance to work well with Gothic writing in which the truth is deliberately hidden behind symbolic tropes and loads of atmospheric subtext. However, there is always an exception. We looked at an exception of each of these in the last post: one from Child of God by Cormac McCarthy (shooting) and one from My Soul to Keep by Tananarive Due (stabbing) and why they are successful.

Third, more modern hands-off methods such as cutting someone’s break line in her car, or using an assassin will be challenging. The farther the murderer is removed from the crime, the less closely it ties into the psychological or spiritual state of the perpetrator. That will almost always undermine it’s effectiveness in Gothic writing in which those things are the most essential.

Conclusion

I think you can see the intent here. There may be many other options that would work just as well or better than these, but they need to mirror a Gothic theme’s subtlety and they need its symbolic intent. The choice of a character’s murder isn’t an arbitrary one. It’s a matter of choosing what fits your theme most adeptly.

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