Stage Three Melt-Down

In my last post, I talked about the 5 Stage Writing Cycle, casually mentioned by Meg Gardiner at The Kill Zone a couple of days ago. Yesterday, I sat down at my computer, opened up my Work In Progress (WIP), and slid into Stage Three almost immediately.

For those who didn't read the last post, or did but don't want to go back and re-read it, Stage Three is the Panic stage, or what I like to call the It's-All-Drivel stage. This is when you read what you've already written, decide it's pure drivel, and are tempted to delete everything that comes after the title page. There are days when even my title page is in danger.

Thankfully, a wise sage once told me the secret to dealing with this problem. Unfortunately, I can't remember who that wise sage was. (James Scott Bell? Randy Ingermanson? Donald Maass? Could be.) Fortunately, I do remember the advice! It's this simple: 

When you enter a Stage Three Melt-Down, don't delete anything. Yup, that's right. Leave all the drivel alone. Ignore it. Instead, go to the end of the document, get a new blank page on the screen, and add new words. It doesn't matter if the new words are drivel, also. The point is to get new words onto the page. Later, when you've moved beyond Stage Three, you can go back and edit the existing stuff to make it better. If you delete it all while in the midst of the panic, you won't have any words left to edit.

I know it's simplistic, but it works wonders. All my previous drivel--uh, words--are still in the WIP, ready to be edited. Probably today, since I find myself back in Stage Two, which is Delusions of Grandeur. It's a nice place to exist, if you can get there.

For what it's worth.

-Sonja

Five-Stage Writing Cycle

Today over at The Kill Zone, writer Meg Gardiner is the guest blogger. One sentence jumped off the blog and got me laughing, so I have to share with you.
She casually mentioned the 5 stage writing cycle. I'd never heard of this before. I've heard of the 5 stages of grief (denial/isolation, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance), but not the writing cycle. Then she listed them:

1) excitement
2) delusions of grandeur
3) panic
4) compulsive eating
5) deliverance

This delighted me so much because it's so true! For me, number four is replaced with compulsive computer gaming (Sid Meier's Civ 4), but everything else is right on. I've experienced all these stages through every novel I've written, and I somehow never skip a step.

Do these ring true for you, too?

-Sonja

A Problem with Series

(Note: I tried posting this last Monday, and it never appeared. So I'm re-posting it today. I apologize to my three loyal readers who looked for a post on Monday and were sorely disappointed. Now back to the regularly scheduled program.)

I just finished reading the second book of a series. In an effort to not offend the author or his fans, I won't mention his name, but I had a major problem with the ending of the second book. I'd like to preface this comment with the fact that I enjoyed the first book quite a bit. It went in a strange direction, but it worked for me, mostly because I loved the protagonist. So when I got book two from the library, I was excited to see what new adventures awaited this fabulous heroine. The second book was just as exciting as the first. The heroine was still lovable. The obstacles thrown in her path were deliciously horrific.

Then I got to the end. It was unbelievable. Unsatisfying. Illogical. And incredibly confusing. I closed the book and wondered what on earth had happened. I wasn't even sure she came out on top. Did she get what she wanted? Did she save the world? Did she actually accomplish something worthwhile?

I'm going to give this author another chance and read book three. But it got me thinking about my own novels within a series. Did I play fair with the reader? Are the endings satisfactory and understandable? Or do they leave the reader confused and frustrated?

Maybe the only way to know for certain is to ask my beta readers, as I'm entirely too close to my own novels. They work, in my mind, as I'm sure the ending in book two worked for this other author.
Does anyone out there have another solution to this problem?

-Sonja

Step Seven: New Quilibrium

I'm at the end of John Truby's seven steps to creating a great story structure, as detailed in his book, THE ANATOMY OF STORY. Step seven is New Equilibrium.

Everything returns to normal. All desire is gone. The hero got what he wanted (or, in a tragedy, failed miserably). There's one difference: the hero has changed, a fundamental and permanent change. Sometimes that change is for the positive and he walks away a better man. Sometimes that change is negative and he realizes that he is incapable of having a self-revelation. In this case, he falls or is destroyed.

In DIE HARD, John has defeated the criminals, saved his wife, and reaffirmed their love. In SILENCE OF THE LAMBS, Clarice has brought Buffalo Bill to justice, has become an excellent FBI agent, and has conquered her nightmares. In VERTIGO, Scottie drags the woman he loves to the top of a tower to get her to confess to murder, then watches in horror as she accidentally falls to her death.

This step is clear, and I doubt you've left it out of your POV, but go check, anyway.

-Sonja

Step Six: Self-Revelation

John Truby's book, THE ANATOMY OF STORY, offers seven steps to creating a great hero for a great story structure. Step six is Self-Revelation.

Step five, covered in the last post, was Battle. "The battle is an intense and painful experience for the hero," Truby says. And this battle causes the hero to have a revelation about who he is. In a psychological self-revelation, the hero sees himself honestly for the first time. This stripping away of the old facade is a painful and courageous act, the most courageous thing the hero has done in the entire story.

In BIG, John realizes he has to leave his girlfriend and his life at the toy company to go back to being a kid if he is to have a successful life as an adult. In CASABLANCA, Ricks sheds his cynicism, regains his idealism, and sacrifices his lover to become a freedom fighter.
If your hero has a moral need (which he should), his self-revelation should be moral as well. He doesn't just see himself in a new light; he has an insight about the proper way to act toward others. He realizes he's been wrong, that he's hurt others, and that he must change. Then he proves he has changed by taking new moral action.

In TOOTSIE, Michael realizes he's been a scoundrel and apologizes to the woman he loves. Note that he says it in a clever and comical manner to avoid sermonizing.
Self-revelation is most closely connected to need. Need is the beginning of the hero's character change, and self-revelation is the end-point of that change. Need marks his immaturity, what he's missing, what is holding him back. Self-revelation is the moment when he's grown as a human being. It's what he's learned, what allows him to be a better man.

This is a tough step to pull off without sounding preachy. Instead of having your hero say out loud what new thing he's learned, or what new insight he has into himself, SHOW him acting on this new-found knowledge.
-Sonja

Step Five: Battle

I'm still digging all the good stuff out of John Truby's book, THE ANATOMY OF STORY, 22 Steps to Becoming a Master Storyteller. The 22 steps mentioned in the subtitle have to do with building plot. But Truby begins the book by offering seven of those 22 steps that building a great story structure.

Step five is Battle. Throughout the middle of the story, the hero and his opponent engage in several confrontations as they each try to reach the goal. The conflict escalates toward a Final Battle, which finally determines who wins the goal. This final battle may be a conflict with violence or a conflict with words.

In THE ODYSSEY, Odysseus slays the suitors who have tormented his wife and destroyed his home. In CHINATOWN, a cop kills Evelyn, and Noah gets away with Evelyn's daughter while Jake walks off in despair. In THE VERDICT, Frank defeats opposing counsel by using brilliant lawyering and persuasive words in the courtroom.

This step is fairly self-explanatory, so I won't try to offer a strategy for making this work. If you have no final battle in your story, you need one.

-Sonja

Step Four: Plan

THE ANATOMY OF STORY, by John Truby, contains seven steps to building a great story structure. Step four is the Plan.

The plan is the guidelines or strategies the hero will use to overcome his opponent and reach the goal. It's organically linked to both desire and the opponent. Sometimes it's vague, and the hero muddles through it. Sometimes it's so complex, the hero has to write it down (thus sharing it with the reader). Without the plan, there's no moving forward in the story.

HAMLET'S desire is to bring about justice for his father's murder. His opponent is the current king, who happens to be the murderer. Hamlet's plan is to put on a play that mimics the murder of his father by the current king. He will then prove the king's guilt by the king's reaction to the play.

In THE GODFATHER, Michael's desire is to protect his family from other mafia crime families. His opponents are the other crime families who'd like to control crime in New York. Michael's first plan is to kill Sollozzo. His second plan is to kill the heads of the other mafia families in a single strike.

This step is easy enough to understand, so there's no point in offering a technique for achieving it. Just go put a plan in your story.

-Sonja