A Novel Roadmap


Again, and again, and again, I’ve tried to find methods of keeping myself writing since I graduated from college 4 years ago. I’ve found that it’s more difficult than I ever thought it’d be. I’ve tried writing prompts, 100-words-per-day goals, even keeping a notebook and pen by my bedside. There are certainly moments of inspiration. Still, writing in a distracting world can be really difficult.

Enter Pinterest. If there’s one thing that has helped me with inspiration and techniques, it’s been this site, which is chock full of prompts, techniques, and any sort of inspirational art/photography/fact you could possibly want.

This morning, I found a new technique which I am eager to put to the test. Found on the website The Novel Factory, this “novel writing roadmap” is designed to get a novel writer from idea to final draft over the course of one year.

I’ve seen many method outlines for writing a novel over the years, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen one quite so complete as this one. This “roadmap” offers a breakdown not only of what should be accomplished in each segment, but how to do it as well. I’ve got a head start for The Secret of Erris in that this book is a rewrite, but I still want to make sure it at least meets (if not exceeds) the quality of the rewrite of The Four Stars, so I’m hoping this guide will get me organized and back to writing soon.

If you try it, feel free to leave a comment to let me know what you think of it too!


Best Seller vs. Classic

18869975  vs.  51sqcuypm9l-_sx307_bo1204203200_

As a relatively inexperienced writer, and one who is very much in need of practice and knowledge, the topic of what makes the difference between a good book and a great book is one of great interest to me.

Ask any writer what they think makes a great book and they will have their own personalized list of do’s and do not’s. Sometimes, these pieces of advice are similar or even the same to those of other writers. Start the story off with a hook. Avoid adverbs. Show, don’t tell. Balance tension and release. Use the word “said” in your dialogue for a change (I drove my mentor batty by using almost any other word but “said” following my dialogue).

All good advice, mind you, but what might hook you as the author may or may not hook your reader, and the show-tell/tension-release concepts can be difficult to measure. And in any case, writing is as much personal style as it is rules. So where do you draw the line, and how do you measure the quality of your work?

And then there’s something else that I’ve noticed. There are great books, and then there are great books. What’s the difference? The best way I can think to describe the difference is with the Best Seller vs. Classic concept. And no, I don’t just mean A Tale of Two Cities or Pride & Prejudice.

The fact of the matter is, just because a book is a best seller doesn’t necessarily mean it’ll become a classic. And just because it is a classic, that doesn’t mean it’ll be a best seller. This is why you’ve probably heard of (or maybe even read) C. S. Lewis’s The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe (published in 1950; not a best seller) but maybe haven’t heard of Daphne du Maurier’s The Parasites (also published in 1950; was a best seller that year).

One was a momentary fad; the other has withstood the test of time.

So what’s the difference? Why is it that a book popular in its moment can be so easily forgotten, while another can be seemingly obscure yet be remembered decades, or even centuries, after its publication?

A quick search for “Characteristics of a classic story” lead to a variety of basic descriptors. There’s longevity (duh); language (they coin new expressions or phrases that stick); originality and freshness (but there are plenty of best sellers that could fit that bill). The two things that stood out to me the most, however, are these: classic stories (a) focus on something that is essential to being human and (b) are so reflecting of the culture in which they are written that they become a beacon of that culture as time goes on.

Think of the classics that you are familiar with. Maybe it’s Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, which explores not only the culture of the era but also the concepts of human pride and superficial judgement of others. Maybe it’s Charles Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities, which at once covers the brutality of the French Revolution and the concept of human redemption. There are also Alexandre Dumas’ The Count of Monte Cristo (revolutionary France and the consequences of revenge), Mark Twain’s The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn (showing the brutal reality of slavery in America and exploring human value and what it truly means to be a moral individual), and Dante’s Inferno (reflecting both classic literature and religious thought in his time while also exploring the concept of sin).

Even some of the more modern stories (including movies) could be considered classics (although many might argue otherwise). The Lion King is a story that brings the wilds of Africa to life while simultaneously touching on the concept of leadership and justice. Mulan is remembered both for its portrayal of 5th/6th century China along with its promotion of equality and friendship. Gone with the Wind portrays the events of the American Civil War while also exploring themes such as the cost of war, the reality of change, and the positives and negatives of personal strength and self-reliance.

Though a bit different from what are known as true “Classics,” both old and modern stories that are well-beloved are remembered for more than just the action and excitement. They delve deep into the human mind and bring to light both social and psychological issues present not just in their time but throughout human history.

The website booksmakeadifference.com asked of their readers: “What makes a book worth reading?”

Here are some of my favorite responses:

I search for the content. Something that makes me learn something.

A good book is a treasure trove of humanity so that no matter how often you open a page and start reading, there is still something new to be discovered.

A great book is not only going to have a good story, but it is going to be written well. But sometimes a good book has to do more with what the reader needs at that given time in his or her life. The books I read while going through my divorce may not fall into the normal classification of a “good” book, but it was what I needed at that time in my life and I may therefore classify it as a good book.

The moral of the story (at least from my perspective)? Good writing is great. Catching the reader’s interest is mandatory. But touching the reader’s soul? That is what makes a Classic.

The Challenge of Book 2


Back when I first started writing The Four Stars, there were a lot of things I never could have imagined. First and foremost, I never imagined that it would take not only a second but a third book to finish the story out; secondly, I never thought I’d ever be completely rewriting the stories after a 90 degree learning curve from my time in college; and on top of all that, I never thought it would take me 3-ish years to get to chapter 2 of the rewrite of The Secret of Erris.

I have to admit, I haven’t done much writing in those 3 years. Part of that has been simple adult life. Between work and other life commitments, I just haven’t figured out how to prioritize and find the time to sit down and write. There are other things, too, though. In college, I got spoiled to having access to a community of writers who would encourage and inspire me every time we met. Writing groups still exist outside of college, but I have discovered that they are few and far between, and they only meet on days that I can’t attend the meetings. And then there’s the real kicker: I just don’t have the confidence in my ability that I once had. You’ve probably heard the phrase, “If you don’t use it, you lose it.” After going for a while without writing, I have, at the very least, lost my confidence, if not my skill.

My life has settled down a lot recently (I’m married now, and I live a lot closer to where I work), and so in attempting to get myself back into gear for the umpteenth time since I published the second edition of The Four Stars, I have started reading more articles on writing.

The most recent article I have read – “Writing a Trilogy: Essential Tips for crafting a Three-Part Series” by Dan Koboldt – really hit home for me.

As Koboldt explains in his article, the first book of a trilogy is the easy part. It may not seem that way at first. After all, you’re building a world and a group of characters from the ground up. But the first book has no commitments. You have no rules to break yet because none have been established. You have no events or facts to remember yet because none have been revealed. You have no characters to present accurately because they haven’t been born yet. There are no time commitments, no reader expectations, no pressures.

Then comes the second book. Your world has been established. Your readers and characters have met. The next part of the story is waiting to unfold.

Now when writing, you have a whole new set of challenges. First, you have to remember what happened in the last book. Heaven forbid you’re like me and wait 3+ years to get this party started.

Then, you have to write the characters accurately. For a new writer, this may sound easy, until you realize that characters inevitably take on a life of their own, so the character you thought you were writing at the beginning of Book 1 may very well not be the same character by the beginning of Book 2. And your readers expect consistency.

And then there’s the whole plot issue. Book 2 is both a story in and of itself and a continuation of the plot from Book 1. And somehow, you have to balance both, while simultaneously setting up the story for Book 3.

Then, to top it all off, there are expectations of excellence. I think that, for me, that’s where it really gets me. I got a lot of positive feedback from the rewrite of The Four Stars. Now I’ve got to deliver on The Secret of Erris. And there’s always that risk that I will fail. Koboldt calls it the “sophomore slump,” or the “struggle to replicate the same magic in a second volume.” Being the perfectionist that I am, the fear of failing to deliver is crippling.

Luckily for me (and others like me), there are writers out there willing to share their wisdom, and for the formula of the second book in a trilogy, Koboldt puts it this way:

 When writing a trilogy, you need to continue the story from book one while escalating everything—conflict, tension and stakes—to pull readers along to the finale. Yet book two also needs to provide some satisfaction to readers. It requires a delicate balancing act, because you can’t get to the big ending until book three.

Since part one of a trilogy usually ends in a triumph, part two often features the antagonist’s devastating counterstroke. Look at The Empire Strikes Back, the second movie in the original Star Wars trilogy. The plucky rebels have won a major victory, but they still face a powerful enemy. This becomes apparent almost right away with the Empire’s destruction of the rebel base. We love the heroes, but they’re facing setback after setback. The wonderful dramatic tension that results from this is something to emulate when you’re writing a second installment.

It seems silly now, but despite my husband being a major Star Wars fan, I had never thought to sit down and analyze how the trilogies in the series were done. I don’t know that my writing will ever be Star Wars or Lord of the Rings quality, but at least this gives me something to visualize. And hopefully, as I study the classics and begin practicing my writing again, I’ll start to improve and be able to deliver a Book 2 equal to its predecessor.


Let the Challenge Begin! – NaNoWriMo 2016

November 1 is finally upon us, and with it marks my 5th year participating in NaNoWriMo. Last year, I went big and bold with a brand new (and highly ambitious) project called Infinite, which I would still say was a success despite not getting anywhere near that 50,000 word mark.

This year, though, I’ve decided to scale back my ambitions a bit. Between grad school and a host of volunteer activities (not to mention work), I just don’t foresee myself getting very far if I try to build something from scratch. Thus, I decided that this year I would focus on shooting for 50,000 words of an in-progress work instead. (I mean, 50,000 words isn’t even half of what I’ve been producing in recent years).

I had several options to choose from this year, but after a careful consideration of the structure I already have in place for each story, I finally settled on the rewrite of book 2 of the Star Trilogy, The Secret of Erris. I think it will offer a good combination of challenge and ease, considering that the world is already mostly built but the changes in the first book have made the original plot nearly obsolete.

That being said, here is a little about my 2016 NaNo project.



A year has passed since the defeat of the Gauls at Altis Pass, and all of Livania has come together in the elvin citadel of Rinba to celebrate that victory. With the celebration, however, comes some shocking news: Cael, one of the original four Stars and Gavin’s father, may still be alive, trapped somewhere in the heart of Erris, a deserted, monster-infested swampland to the south of Livania.

Teaming up with the forest elf prince, Shea, the Ardenian princess, Lina, and Razi’s father, Delwynn, the four young Stars set out on a mission to save the missing hero. What they don’t know, however, is that Erris is not merely a deserted swamp. And as they search for clues to Cael’s whereabouts, they discover that they are not alone in this region, either.



A dancing fire crackled in the fireplace of an immense library, its lively flames casting a warm glow against the white marble hearth. The light of the blaze sent flickering shadows across tall bookshelves – all filled to the brim with a wide array of ancient volumes and scrolls – that stretched out along the length of the expansive room. Ancient tapestries hung from the dark stone walls that encompassed the room, their gold-thread tassels dangling above statues wrought of various metals, set with precious stones, and covered with a fine layer of dust. To one side of the white marble hearth stood an ornate bronze desk, its polished surface glinting in the firelight, and on the opposite side sat a plush red silk armchair trimmed in gold thread.

And there, settled down in the armchair, was Radek, his long golden hair pulled back in an ornate metal clasp as he bent his head forward, his bright blue eyes scanning the worn, stained pages of a stack of papers that had been recovered from the Battle of Altis Pass roughly one year earlier.

A sigh escaped the mountain elf’s lips, and briefly he closed his eyes, rubbing the tension out of them. He had lost track of the hours he had spent here in his library, sifting through the massive collection of material he had acquired over the thousands of years that he had been alive. Some of the tomes were new, written even within the last century, while others were ancient, their ages unknown even to him. These he had inherited from his father, who had inherited them from his own father before that. At one point in time, Radek had found the tomes to be mere entertainment. Now, though, he thought of them in a much different light.

The papers that had been recovered from the Gauls at Altis Pass were strange, written in ancient elvish but in a manner that was highly unfamiliar even to Radek. At first, the documents had been left to the Livanians, but when the code proved too difficult even for Delwynn, who had served under King Ceallach, Radek had taken it upon himself to sort out the mystery.

How long had it been since he had first started this project? Two months? Three? He couldn’t remember. And so far, he had managed to understand very little of it.

That the documents all pertained to Harzia was no surprise to Radek. After all, Harzia was where the Star Spell was located. It stood to reason, then, that it would also be a place of interest to the Gauls, who had been hunting the Star power since the dawn of the mountain kingdom. What didn’t make sense to him, however, were the constant references to words and names that even Radek himself had never heard of. Sometimes, the writing was poetic; other times, it seemed to be little more than gibberish. Most likely, Radek supposed, it was some sort of code system, possibly intermixed with the Gaulian dialect. He was surprised that any of the Gauls would know ancient elvish, but he wouldn’t put it past them, he supposed, considering their long history with Harzia. Now if only he could get into their minds long enough to understand the meaning behind the words. Just that long, though. Frankly, he had no desire to get into their minds beyond that.

Quietly Radek reached down to the papers resting in his lap, flipping one over to examine the next page. Oh well. Since mind-reading was out of the question, he would just have to continue doing things the usual way instead.

He was just getting to the end of the page when, suddenly, his eyes landed on a particular passage. There was a message here, one that actually seemed to make some measure of sense, and in it was a reference to an ancient elvin book.

“Strange,” Radek muttered to himself, standing and making his way toward the back of the library. “How would a Gaul know of this book?”

His sharp blue eyes scanned the bound volumes that sat on the aged shelves. To a visitor, finding anything in this library would probably appear all but impossible. But to Radek, it was simple. Very little had changed about it in the past thousand years, and he had read everything in his collection at least once.

At last he found what he was looking for, drew the book off the shelf, and returned to his seat. He laid the tome on his lap and stared at the title for a short time. It was a large book, possibly containing a thousand pages or more, and obviously old. The leather cover was cracked, the pages stiff and yellowed with age. Every now and again one could see an insert tucked in between the pages, each containing hand-sketched images of monsters, heroes, temples, and all manner of mysteries and glories of days long since past.

Radek’s eyes narrowed slightly as he stared down at the ancient text. He hadn’t read this book since he was a boy. How long had it been? 2000 years, perhaps?

Quietly he flipped to the title page of the book, running his fingers over the faded ink scrawled in delicate writing from top to bottom. Then, almost in reverent awe, he muttered aloud, “Legends of Erris.”

I’ve already got a total of about 3,000 words from previous work on this manuscript, so I won’t be starting directly at the beginning. Still, this year’s NaNoWriMo might give me the push I need to sort through all those plot and character changes and get this series rolling again. And to all of you who are planning on participating this year as well, I wish you all the best.

“Start writing, no matter what. The water does not flow until the faucet is turned on.” 

― Louis L’Amour



When the Last Story is Told

Four days until NaNoWriMo starts, and I’m not sure yet if I’m excited or intimidated.

I was introduced to NaNoWriMo back in 2010, but I didn’t start participating until the following year. To date, I have yet to complete the 50,000 word goal. That doesn’t mean I haven’t been writing, though. As of this moment, my “Writings” file on my computer takes up just under 1.3 GB of space and contains 893 files. Of course, some of those files are cover art and some are plot/character/world notes, but I’d still say the writing takes up a notable portion of that number. Of the things I’ve actually tallied, I’ve written roughly 680,000 words since 2006. (And that doesn’t include the blogs, outlines, world lore, hand-written stories, and research papers that I’ve written over the years). And on top of that, I have a list of “want-to-finish” books that literally, if I were to finish one every 12 months (completely not realistic for the severely ADD me), I would still be 61 years old by the time I finished writing the last one. (And that would be dependent on a guarantee I wouldn’t come up with any other stories during that length of time).

As I’ve been mulling over this information, along with the thought of starting a brand new project when I already have three big ones I haven’t finished yet, the question came to me: When does a writer decide that they have told their last story?

I’ve heard it said that a writer is merely a person who has a story to tell. And though I definitely feel like I have stories to tell, I haven’t really been coming up with anything new recently. Maybe this isn’t a big deal to most people, but it’s a strange feeling to me, the person who, even just a few years, would tell a family member or friend, “Guess what,” and would immediately get the response, “You came up with a new story.”

It’s made me wonder, do writers run out of stories? Or is it merely because I have an overload of story ideas right now that I’m just too overwhelmed to come up with something new?

I don’t really have an answer, but I wonder if I’m the only one who has ever pondered this, or if it’s a more common question than I realized.

On the upside, there have been several highly successful authors who published their major works after the age of 40, so maybe this dry spell is just a chance for me to catch up and weed out all the ideas that would just fall flat on their faces. And in the meantime, I’ll probably use NaNoWriMo as a chance to propel those projects forward.

Dialogue: Building Character Through Speech

Currently listening to “Before Time” by Thomas Bergersen.


OK, it’s official. I simply cannot keep up with the post-per-day thing. (Probably because I can’t seem to comprehend how I could possibly write a post in only 300 words). On the upside, that little experiment has gotten me back in the writing spirit (I wrote just under 3,000 words on one of my stories yesterday). But since I’m here to give everyone a status update, I thought I might as well talk about something useful while I’m at it. And that something useful is: dialogue.

Description and plot are often hailed as the most important elements of any story, and I would be remiss to say they aren’t critical aspects of writing a successful book, but one element of story and character development that often gets forgotten about is good, old-fashioned talking.

A lot of people I have met get intimidated by dialogue, and for good reason. It is not just an important part of any story, but a vital one, and can too easily go wrong with a simple misplaced phrase. Some readers are rather forgiving about limited or over-done description. They are not always so quick to forgive stilted, awkward, or cliche verbal interaction. This, however, tends to lead people to take the minimalistic approach or avoid dialogue all-together, leaving the reader with a story that is only partially developed and highly unrealistic. (Unless we’re talking about a certain group of teenagers I know who sit side-by-side on a bench and text/Snap Chat each other for hours on end without so much as a spoken word between them).

I am far from what I would consider a “Master of Dialogue,” but I do enjoy it and use it regularly in my work. For me, dialogue gives me one of the best chances I’ll ever get at making my characters real to my readers, not to mention offering a perfect method for clarifying events (within reason) and propelling the plot forward. It is also where most of my comic relief takes place. For instance, here’s a scene from one of my Skyrim fanfictions, Dovahsil.

The innkeeper, Hulda, slid a mug of mead across the counter as Marcurio plopped in a stool, and she flashed him a playful smile when she caught the look of surprise he gave her.

“It’s been a while, Marcurio,” the woman grinned, picking up a rag and rubbing down the counter.

“You remember me?” the mage grinned back, grabbing up the mug and taking a swig. “And you missed me so much that you even gave me a mug of free mead. I’m touched.”

“Oh, that mug isn’t free,” Hulda chuckled, almost menacingly, Marcurio thought. “And of course I remember you,” the innkeeper continued. “You still have a tab.”

A series of coughing and sputtering ensued as Marcurio choked on the mouthful of mead he had almost managed to swallow.

“But it’s been nearly 4 years, Hulda,” the mage protested, setting the mug on the counter and leaning forward, slapping a charming smirk on his face for good effect. “Those were hard times. Can’t we let the past be the past?”

“The past can be the past,” the innkeeper replied nonchalantly. “But last I checked, your tab was still valid today, which means that technically it can’t be considered ‘the past.’”

“Alright, then. Out of the kindness of your heart?”

“If I ran a business like that, I wouldn’t have a business to run.”



“Pretty please?”


“You know you want to.”

“You know I’ll make you scrub every privy in town if you don’t stop.”

Marcurio recoiled at the suggestion.

“I’ll stop begging,” he squeaked, adjusting the collar of his robe as though it had suddenly become very tight.

“That’s what I thought.”

At that, the man sighed, reaching into his satchel and placing a bag full of coins on the counter.

“There’s 300 here,” he said, sliding it toward Hulda.

The woman’s jaw dropped slightly. Cautiously she reached out, picking up the bag of money and glancing suspiciously inside.

“Just let me know how much more I owe you,” Marcurio continued. “This one included.”

He held up his current mug with a quirky grin.

“This will be enough,” Hulda replied, tucking the bag securely away behind the counter. Then she swatted the mage with her rag.

“You had the money and yet you were trying to weasel out of your debt. You’re such a bum.”

“I prefer business-minded, myself.”

“Cheap-scape sounds more appropriate to me.”

“Oh! You wound me with your words.”

“You’ll make a full recovery, I am sure.”

Recently I read a post called “9 Easily Preventable Mistakes Writers Make with Dialogue.” As the title suggests, in this article, the author explores some of the most common mistakes a writer (both professional or otherwise) can make when writing dialogue, and I find that I am (or previously have been) guilty of the large majority of them.

The first two problems presented in the article are “too formal” and “too casual” dialogue. There is a very delicate balance between the formal and casual methods of speech, and using either one to excess or not enough can make any story into a difficult read. Remember, we’re not trying to reinvent Hamlet or Tom Sawyer here.

For me, I tend to use a mixture of formal and casual speech with my characters. For instance, here is a section of dialogue from my book The Four Stars:

“We really do need to continue on,” Gavin said, turning to look at his companions. “Remember that we aren’t actually here to explore. King Dorrian and Lord Rolf need us. We’ve found the end of the path and solved all its puzzles. It would be selfish to ask for more.”

Rayne glanced at the boy with a disappointed pout, then sighed and nodded.

“You’re right,” she said, sheathing her swords. “I had almost forgotten about that little issue.”

“Issue?” Radek inquired, raising a curious eyebrow at the group.

Razi nodded as she sheathed her own sword.

“The Gauls,” the redhead replied. “They’ve invaded the mountains and have our kingdom’s armies cornered in Altis Pass. A messenger came and said that we were being summoned to join the battle, but that we should take the Old Road instead of the pass. That’s how we ended up here.”

“The Gauls are here in the mountains?” Radek inquired, looking up at Nantlais.

“Hmm…yes…” the giant mused. “The Black Banners, the Gauls, as you call them, have sent many scouts through here over the years, so I thought little of it when I received the report that the number of scouts had recently increased. Our duty has never been to guard the pass, though, so I did not know that there was an army of them there.”

In the case of my Legend of the Stars series, I use formal and informal speech to indicate the status and language of the character. Razi, Rayne, Eryn, and Gavin are somewhat educated, but they are also young orphans who haven’t had much interaction with the world outside of their home. As such, they use more contractions in their speech, along with things like “I dunno” and “Okay.” On the other hand, characters like Radek and Nantlais, who have also lived for many years in an isolated community and whose native language is Ancient Elvish rather than Trade Speech, use more formal language, often opting for sentences that have no contractions in them. This is also reflected in places where characters are speaking specifically in one form or another of Elvish, as the idea behind the language is that there are no possessives or contractions (thus, no need for apostrophes in general). This whole system of dialogue, though, is something new to the rewrite of the series, as the original books contained speech that was downright awkward in places thanks to the excessive formality or informality of the language.

I will admit, I have tried the “too realistic” part of this spectrum before on more than one occasion. When I was in high school, there was a website called Worth1000 that regularly held creative contests. Every contest started with some sort of prompt or theme, and the goal was to create something interesting enough that it would garner enough votes to win on-site tokens.

One such contest that I participated in featured a prompt in which the participants were to write a story surrounding an unusual use of money won in a giveaway. (I no longer remember the exact prompt, though). The story I created, titled “Calling Ma,” featured an eccentric old man and a curious young neighbor boy, and the dialogue went like this:

“Um…what are you doing?” Gage repeated, though this time he was slightly more hesitant.

“I’m making a galactic telephone, see?” the old man replied, patting the giant hunk of metal fondly, causing a piece of hot-glued aluminum to clatter to the ground and a length of copper wire to pop into view. “Those generous fellas in the black car gave me all the money I needed to do the job.”

He was referring to the million dollar give-away that had taken place a few days before.

“A…galactic phone?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What is it supposed to do?”

“What’s it s’posed ta do, he says!” Mr. Goodrich laughed, wriggling out from under his invention and bounding to his oversized feet. “Why, ta call me ma, that’s what!”

“Call your what?”

“Me ma. Ye know, what some people call d’eir mother,” he replied, being sure to stress the “o” in “mother”.

Writing quality aside, what really turned the readers off of this story was the dialogue of Mr. Goodrich (which is significantly cleaned up in the version I’ve posted here, as I did some editing after the competition had ended). And looking back on it, I can see why. Every other word was a misspelling or included an apostrophe, forcing the reader to spend so much time trying to understand what the characters were saying that they couldn’t focus on the rest of the story.

Next on the list was “Obtrusive Dialogue Tags.” And I’ll be the first person to claim, “Guilty as charged.”

To be honest, I have never understood the problem with this one. When I was in college, my mentor, Dr. Robinson, hounded me about this, and I have been accused of being downright “allergic” to the word “said.” (You might notice there’s not one “he said” in the section from “Calling Ma”).

I think some readers take more issue with the dialogue tags than I do, and I would wager that it comes down more to style than to actual writing rules. (After all, this sort of dialogue is present in several of my favorite books, all traditionally published). To me, they aren’t a detractor, and actually help me to envision vocal tone and physical action better than a simple “he said.”

Then there’s phonetic spellings, (I sort of addressed this in the “casual dialogue” section), followed by using characters’ names too often.

I am fairly certain that I don’t use characters’ names too often in the actual speech section. Most of my characters are rather familiar with each other, thus making the use of direct address unnecessary. If anything, I’d say I used names most frequently in my earlier work, probably because of a fear that the reader wouldn’t know who was talking or being talked to. The exception to this that I can think of would be in The Four Stars, when King Ceallach regularly adds the name “Cloony” in his sentences directed at that character. But then, considering the fact that King Ceallach is, in fact, purposefully mocking the character and his name, the overuse makes sense.

Number 6 is “Having No Narrative,” and I would say it’s something I had more trouble with in my early writings than I do now, all thanks to Dr. Robinson, of course. I often write stories containing at least one character who has some sort of secret (often more than one character, but that’s beside the point), and somewhere during the plot, the truth is revealed in the form of a confession of sorts. There are also multiple instances in my books where characters read aloud from documents or books so that all the other characters involved can hear the truth or information at one time. When I first started writing, there were times when this could turn into several pages of strict dialogue/story-telling. When I went to college and took Narrative Writing from Dr. Robinson, however, he was quick to point out how monotonous this sort of writing can be and suggested that I include interjections and action into the mix to remind the reader that there are other characters (and events) present. Here’s an example from my retro fantasy novel, Prism World:

“But even with their powers, they were no match for our guns and our armies,” he read aloud. “The Mythikans, who call themselves the Nalivai, fought bitterly, but they were many tribes of many different minds. Not even those great mages could withstand our power. Little by little, we crushed out their villages, killing their men and women and capturing their children. Admittedly, they were frightening opponents with an ability to kill the like of which I have never before seen. Though they learned all too late how to defeat our armies, we saw in them a potential far greater than that found in a common soldier. In body and in mind they were human, but in power they were something else entirely.”

I glanced down at my scarred left hand as Leif read those words. So…even the masters said that, to some extent at least, Phantoms were human. But if we were human, why did they…? Leif continued to read and I turned my attention back to the book in his hand.

“Our last battle was fought at the foot of the Sajaro Mountains. Their army was small and weak, but their leaders were the most powerful of the Mythikans left alive. Elithe and Feron were their names, and I remember them well for they were the most noble and most courageous of all beings I had ever crossed paths with and, I dare say, ever will. Wielding the powers of lightning and of fire, they scorched the mountain with fervent passion, shaming our generals and standing at the very front of their army, prepared to defy us until their very last breaths…

The last three points in the list were “Having Every Character Sound the Same,” “Using Indirect Speech Poorly,” and “Spelling Everything Out in the Narrative.”

I’m gonna have to defer to my readers on that first one. Most people tell me that my characters are all pretty unique, though I’m sure I could do better.

As for indirect speech, I actually have become rather fond of it, considering the fact that if I spelled out every single conversation, I would need a whole library just to accommodate one story. I think the key here is to summarize the unimportant conversations and expand the ones that really affect character and plot development.

And then, of course, there’s that last one. Of these final three points, I would say the “Spelling Everything Out in the Narrative” is one of my greater weaknesses, and it goes back to something Dr. Robinson pointed out time and again both in my writing classes and in our writing club, the Rough Writers: show, don’t tell. One thing I have learned over time is that readers typically prefer to be able to see what is going on and make conclusions for themselves. Give them too little, and they’ll be confused and frustrated. Give them too much, however, and they’ll feel like you’re demeaning their intelligence.

Ultimately, dialogue is an art that has to be honed over time, but it isn’t something that any narrative writer should neglect or fear. Also, spending time actually listening to real life conversations and carefully considering the structure and words used will go a long way toward helping you become more familiar and comfortable with it.

I am interested to see what other people think about these points as well, and that includes readers as much as (and probably more than) writers. Are these all things that you notice when you’re reading/writing? Are they things that annoy you? Why or why not?

Anyway, thanks for reading, and I hope to hear from you soon. Cheers!


The Modern Writer

Currently listening to…a live stream of “Mass Effect 1″…because not every day is a music day…I guess… >.<

As some of you may have noticed in previous posts, I am, without a doubt, a modern writer. I was born during the rapid rise of modern technology, and I really can’t remember a time in my life when there wasn’t a computer in my house. Some of my earliest and fondest memories are of when I would sit on my dad’s lap while he worked on his computers. I got my first email address when I was roughly 7 years old, taught myself basic HTML at 10, and was self-publishing my “books” online at the age of 15. I am a gamer and a YouTube addict, and it is not uncommon to find me tapping away at an app on my phone or watching a game stream on Twitch while I wash dishes.

I’ve heard a lot of talk in recent years regarding technology and its effect on writing. For instance, some of you may have noticed the increase in remakes of older movies that have been hitting the theaters, and Hollywood doesn’t seem poised for a real comeback of original material any time soon. Most of the articles I’ve read focus specifically on Hollywood’s drive for money as the reason for their lack of inspiration, but one person I spoke with the other day told me, “It’s because everyone is so focused on consuming their technology that no one is going out, living life, having adventures, and coming up with their own ideas.”

McCauley Marketing Services wrote a blog post addressing the effect of technology on creativity a few years ago. Even though it is certainly a company-focused post, it still is a very interesting read.

So is technology having a negative effect on the writing world? I think it’s highly likely that the obsession with it could, but as a techie and modern writer myself, I have found that there are also some very positive possibilities for writing improvement and inspiration available thanks to the advancement of technology.

Recently I have been searching through my smartphone’s app store for things to help me with my writing. There actually seem to be quite a few options, but I thought I would go ahead and list the four I’ve become particularly fond of. (All free, mind you). Please note, these are all for Android. For those of you who use iOS, I’m sorry, but I have no idea if these are available to you or not.

1. Plot Generator


Plot Generator is an app that focuses on generating ideas for stories, and comes with a variety of genre options. Every roll of the digital dice will throw out a random combination of location, character, detail, and objective ideas. As far as the details and objectives for the fantasy genre go, they don’t seem to have a lot of options (of course, fantasy is known for its cliche plot lines), but it’s still a really good way to get the creative juices flowing.

2. Writeometer


I am a certified chronic procrastinator, so when I found the Writeometer app, I was pretty excited. This app features a word counter, a goal-setter, a timer, and reminder notification options. Completing daily goals earns you “guavas,” which theoretically can be turned in for little “rewards,” though I have not dealt with that feature yet. This could be really helpful for NaNoWriMo, too, so I’m already itching to give it a try on a brand new project in November. (As if I actually need to start another project).

3. WritingExercises wp-1474554154821.png

WritingExercises functions a lot like Plot Generator. Except that instead of generating plots, this one’s focus is on generating prompts. Whenever you open the app, you are given the choice between a random first line, subject, character, or plot. I’d say it works well alongside Plot Generator, and fills in some of the proverbial gaps of the other app.

4. Character Planner wp-1474554200807.png

Character Planner is a full-scale (manual) character creation app. It has so many options for recording character information, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to answer all the slots even if I was doing a profile for my own mother. The point is for you to really get to know your character, and to record that information so you don’t forget it later.

Over all, I think that modern technology has a lot of potential to improve a writer’s abilities and projects, if used properly. I am interested, however, to hear other people’s opinions on the matter. In any case, thanks for visiting my blog, and happy reading!