So, there's a blog-hop thing going on about current projects and writing process, which I was tagged on by Glynn Stewart, fellow client of Onyxhawke Agency and author of Starship's Mage. And I always relish having blog topics handed to me.
1. What am I working on?
Currently I've got two key things on my plate: Editing A Murder of Mages to hand the final manuscript in to the publisher in the near future, and the rough draft of the sequel to Thorn of Dentonhill. I'm coming close to the end of Thorn II, which currently has a working title of Elements of Aventil.
Once those two things are done-- and I suspect neither one will take me past the end of June, I'll move on to working on the sequel to Murder of Mages. And at some point this year I'll go back to Banshee, since I wrote about half of it before selling Thorn and Murder, and it'd be good to get that done before the year is out.
2. How does my work differ from other works in the same genre?
The main way, I think, is I strive to write fantasy that isn't easy to pin down. It's city-based, but it isn't "urban fantasy" (which means something different than I think it ought to...). It isn't set in a period that can easily be pegged as common for fantasy: not medieval or Renaissance or Victorian. It isn't steampunk, but it does tweak on different technology paths.
3. Why do I write what I write?
Mostly because these are books I would want to read, but since they didn't exist, I had to write them.
4. How does my writing process work?
It starts with outlining and character development. I get a sense of who the character is, and from that, what their story should be starts to coalesce. Once I have that together, in a rough sense (very rough-- the origins of Thorn of Dentonhill can be found in some hand-scrawled sentence fragments in a notebook kept next to my bed), I then actually construct an outline using my twelve-part story structure as the scaffolding.
Once I have that in place, including a partial Dramatis Personae, I can actually start writing. I tend to write relatively linearly, but once in a while I'll get stuck, and jump ahead to one of the "red meat" scenes, and then go back and fill in the parts in between. That can be quite helpful, actually. It's one thing to know, "Hey, there's a place where I'm going to need to get to so I can have this stuff happen." It's quite another to actually have Point A and Point B written, and then see from there the path you have to take, what you need to put in place to get there.
--
With that done, I'll pass the baton on to Audrey Lockwood, who recently signed with Stringer Literary Agency, and will probably have more awesome things to announce in the coming year.
d
Showing posts with label twelve part structure. Show all posts
Showing posts with label twelve part structure. Show all posts
Monday, May 26, 2014
Thursday, February 6, 2014
Path to Publication, Part VI: Structure and Plan
It's taken this long to get past the "flailing around and talking about writing something and actually writing" phase of things. But even though I had gotten through the darkest part of this journey (so far), I was far from out of the woods.
As I was finishing Crown, I started to come up with the core ideas that would eventually evolve into Thorn of Dentonhill and Murder of Mages (as well as Holver Alley Crew and Way of the Shield). Now, these were especially rough core ideas. A sense of the characters, and what kind of stories they would be. I had now figured out that I needed an outline to break a story down before I got started with really writing it. So my next step was figuring out how to properly outline a whole novel.
Frankly, a lot of advice out there on the subject is not a big help. I've railed on the flaw in "three act structure" before, and will do so again, but core of it is "Act Two" is usually left to "rising action", which tends to boil down to "more stuff happens" and it's not particularly helpful.
So I got to work, instead of looking for advice on outlines or analysis of stories*, analyzing stories myself and figuring out how they were structured, and applying that to developing a structure for myself. I used novels, of course, but also TV series and comic books. These two were actually quite useful in thinking about how to keep hooks in an audience, how to use episodic events in service of a greater story.
And with that, I designed my Twelve-Part Outline Structure**. And from that, I was able to put together a rough draft of Thorn of Dentonhill.
IF I HAD SELF-PUBLISHED AT THIS POINT: I had a "cleaned up" version of Crown by now, and still hadn't given up on it. It would have been a better thing to self publish than the one from a year before, but still not good. And the version of Thorn that I had at that point was a long way off from the version that was sold. For one, it was easily a third shorter, as the "novel length" target I was going for was just too short.
BUT DID I LEARN ANYTHING BY NOW?: Plot structure, finally. Thorn wasn't ready, but it actually was a story, as opposed to "hanging out with some characters while stuff happens." And I had used that knowledge, that structure, to plan out Murder, Holver Alley and Way of the Shield as well.
---
*- Here's the problem I've found with using story analysis-- like the Hero's Journey, for example-- as an outline structure: they tend to skip the step of converting the tools of analysis into a tool of structure building. As a simile: it's as if an architect, instead of studying other buildings as a process of learning how to draw blueprints, decides that simply using photographs of buildings is an acceptable substitute for blueprints. The tools for analysis are not the tools for construction.
**- Structure. NOT "FORMULA". Crucial distinction.
As I was finishing Crown, I started to come up with the core ideas that would eventually evolve into Thorn of Dentonhill and Murder of Mages (as well as Holver Alley Crew and Way of the Shield). Now, these were especially rough core ideas. A sense of the characters, and what kind of stories they would be. I had now figured out that I needed an outline to break a story down before I got started with really writing it. So my next step was figuring out how to properly outline a whole novel.
Frankly, a lot of advice out there on the subject is not a big help. I've railed on the flaw in "three act structure" before, and will do so again, but core of it is "Act Two" is usually left to "rising action", which tends to boil down to "more stuff happens" and it's not particularly helpful.
So I got to work, instead of looking for advice on outlines or analysis of stories*, analyzing stories myself and figuring out how they were structured, and applying that to developing a structure for myself. I used novels, of course, but also TV series and comic books. These two were actually quite useful in thinking about how to keep hooks in an audience, how to use episodic events in service of a greater story.
And with that, I designed my Twelve-Part Outline Structure**. And from that, I was able to put together a rough draft of Thorn of Dentonhill.
IF I HAD SELF-PUBLISHED AT THIS POINT: I had a "cleaned up" version of Crown by now, and still hadn't given up on it. It would have been a better thing to self publish than the one from a year before, but still not good. And the version of Thorn that I had at that point was a long way off from the version that was sold. For one, it was easily a third shorter, as the "novel length" target I was going for was just too short.
BUT DID I LEARN ANYTHING BY NOW?: Plot structure, finally. Thorn wasn't ready, but it actually was a story, as opposed to "hanging out with some characters while stuff happens." And I had used that knowledge, that structure, to plan out Murder, Holver Alley and Way of the Shield as well.
---
*- Here's the problem I've found with using story analysis-- like the Hero's Journey, for example-- as an outline structure: they tend to skip the step of converting the tools of analysis into a tool of structure building. As a simile: it's as if an architect, instead of studying other buildings as a process of learning how to draw blueprints, decides that simply using photographs of buildings is an acceptable substitute for blueprints. The tools for analysis are not the tools for construction.
**- Structure. NOT "FORMULA". Crucial distinction.
Thursday, April 4, 2013
Twelve Part Structure and Pacing
I will probably never stop being an advocate of structure and outlining. For me, it's the best way to write. But figuring it out, working the way to make it work for me, that was a process.
I've talked, quite a lot, about my Twelve-Part Structure. Part of working that out, of course, was figuring out the pacing of each part. If you go into it thinking each part is an equal part of the book, the pacing is going to be very wonky.
Now, one thing to remember: This is structure. It is not formula. There isn't a mathematical way to Write the Perfect Novel. Anyone who tells you that just wants your money.
1. Establishment: 5%
Since the purpose of this section is to introduce your protagonists, what their situation is and what their capabilities are-- you need to get your hooks in and land them solidly. So you don't want to waste too much time with, say, an overabundance of backstory or infodumping here. So if your target length is a 100K novel, you're looking at 5000 words. This is handy since a lot of writers' workshops or other critiquing processes want only 5000 words*, so if you can hook your reader and make them want to read more.
2. Incitement: 15%
Here, you need more work. Setting up the dominoes, introducing secondary characters and antagonists, really building the world. Here, once you've drawn your reader in, you can get away with more backstory and infodumps. The plot starts rolling, and that build of momentum is a bit slow, of course. But that's all right.
3. Challenge: 10%
Now that you've got your protagonist juggling the various balls of the plot, it's time to start really throwing rocks at him. The small rocks. But you can throw several.
4. Altercation: 10%
The Challenge should flow into the Altercation. Your protagonist can rise to the occasion, and have their first real "Hell, yes!" moment. (They might get minor ones up until this point, but the first big one comes in here.) So, at this point, we're about 40% in.
5-6. Payback-Regrouping: 25%
I'll admit it, this part may be the hardest section. This is that "mushy middle" where, having knocked down some of the dominoes early, you set up even more elaborate ones. This is where you can get away with more backstory and infodumps, but sparingly, as you don't want to lose your audience. Drop the first shoe here, and build up the bigger set of problems.
7-9: Collapse-Retreat-Recovery: 15%
Drop that other shoe and run like hell. I'd like to say the breakdown of this is about 5-5-5, but that isn't always the case. "Collapse" is the moment when things fall apart**, it's throwing the big rock, and you don't need to dwell on that. The running away and dealing with what just happened is the more fun part, anyway. But the point is, this can all blend together.
10: Investment: 10%
Now, the book has to breathe a little bit. Only a little, because you're at 80% in, and the story should be just on the verge of getting completely away from you. Of getting away from the protagonists. But take a moment to appreciate why they're doing what they're doing, and who they are. All while running like hell.
11. Confrontation: 8%
Here the pacing should be relentless. This is the point where your readers should be emotionally incapable of putting the book down, because things are happening like crazy and they're almost at the end and they don't know what's going to happen next and they cannot stop themselves. No need to draw this out: if you set up things well enough in Investment, then it's just a matter of things falling where you need them to here.
12. Resolution: 2%
Finish up, sew up the remaining issues, throw a little tease for book 2, and get out with your reader wanting more. No need to overstay your welcome.
---
*- Like the ArmadilloCon Writers' Workshop, for example. There won't be one in 2013, but you could start planning to attend the 2014 one now, if you want.
**- Yeah, because that's what "Collapse" means...
I've talked, quite a lot, about my Twelve-Part Structure. Part of working that out, of course, was figuring out the pacing of each part. If you go into it thinking each part is an equal part of the book, the pacing is going to be very wonky.
Now, one thing to remember: This is structure. It is not formula. There isn't a mathematical way to Write the Perfect Novel. Anyone who tells you that just wants your money.
1. Establishment: 5%
Since the purpose of this section is to introduce your protagonists, what their situation is and what their capabilities are-- you need to get your hooks in and land them solidly. So you don't want to waste too much time with, say, an overabundance of backstory or infodumping here. So if your target length is a 100K novel, you're looking at 5000 words. This is handy since a lot of writers' workshops or other critiquing processes want only 5000 words*, so if you can hook your reader and make them want to read more.
2. Incitement: 15%
Here, you need more work. Setting up the dominoes, introducing secondary characters and antagonists, really building the world. Here, once you've drawn your reader in, you can get away with more backstory and infodumps. The plot starts rolling, and that build of momentum is a bit slow, of course. But that's all right.
3. Challenge: 10%
Now that you've got your protagonist juggling the various balls of the plot, it's time to start really throwing rocks at him. The small rocks. But you can throw several.
4. Altercation: 10%
The Challenge should flow into the Altercation. Your protagonist can rise to the occasion, and have their first real "Hell, yes!" moment. (They might get minor ones up until this point, but the first big one comes in here.) So, at this point, we're about 40% in.
5-6. Payback-Regrouping: 25%
I'll admit it, this part may be the hardest section. This is that "mushy middle" where, having knocked down some of the dominoes early, you set up even more elaborate ones. This is where you can get away with more backstory and infodumps, but sparingly, as you don't want to lose your audience. Drop the first shoe here, and build up the bigger set of problems.
7-9: Collapse-Retreat-Recovery: 15%
Drop that other shoe and run like hell. I'd like to say the breakdown of this is about 5-5-5, but that isn't always the case. "Collapse" is the moment when things fall apart**, it's throwing the big rock, and you don't need to dwell on that. The running away and dealing with what just happened is the more fun part, anyway. But the point is, this can all blend together.
10: Investment: 10%
Now, the book has to breathe a little bit. Only a little, because you're at 80% in, and the story should be just on the verge of getting completely away from you. Of getting away from the protagonists. But take a moment to appreciate why they're doing what they're doing, and who they are. All while running like hell.
11. Confrontation: 8%
Here the pacing should be relentless. This is the point where your readers should be emotionally incapable of putting the book down, because things are happening like crazy and they're almost at the end and they don't know what's going to happen next and they cannot stop themselves. No need to draw this out: if you set up things well enough in Investment, then it's just a matter of things falling where you need them to here.
12. Resolution: 2%
Finish up, sew up the remaining issues, throw a little tease for book 2, and get out with your reader wanting more. No need to overstay your welcome.
---
*- Like the ArmadilloCon Writers' Workshop, for example. There won't be one in 2013, but you could start planning to attend the 2014 one now, if you want.
**- Yeah, because that's what "Collapse" means...
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Analyzing Flawed Arc Structure, Part 5
Parts one, two, three and four of looking at Star Trek: Enterprise's third season Xindi Arc.
"Home", the third episode* of the fourth season of Star Trek: Enterprise served as an epilogue to the Xindi Arc, primarily by dealing with the emotional fallout of the character subplots. Specifically, it focused on Capt. Archer, and Trip & T'Pol. Both of these aspects work fine in terms of the episode itself. For Archer, he's somewhat broken by the things he did in the Delphic Expanse. He specifically mentions the theft of the warp core, which as mentioned last week, was his greatest sin. But beyond that, his optimism about exploration in general is broken, despite the fact that things did end relatively well. This ties into the one other minor plot thread in "Home"-- the Enterprise crew might be hailed as heroes, but there are some people who aren't thrilled with the fact that they had spent two years running around space saying, "Hey, we're from Earth. Come on over and smack us around, why don't you?"** For Trip & T'Pol, their subplots of his grief over his dead sister (more or less resolved in "The Forgotten") and her emotional damage due to self-inflicted Trellium exposure*** dovetailed into their semi-romantic friendship. So they go to Vulcan together, and deal with T'Pol's family drama.
So, in the end, what worked, and what didn't in the Xindi Arc?
For me, the broad brushstrokes worked: a threat is presented, and to defend themselves from that threat, core principles are challenged and strained. Despite that, in the end, it is those core principles that saves the day: friendship is achieved with (most of) the Xindi council, creating a lasting peace through conversation.
What didn't work, though, is how things went in terms of character. Specifically, character never tied into plot in a real organic way. The closest was with Archer, who's moral center was challenged, but that balance between what he needed to do and what he had to bring himself to do always came more with an axe instead of a scalpel. Archer doesn't get a slow descent into darkness. He gets one questionable moment (putting a pirate in an airlock to get answers) and one really bad no-win scenario (the theft of the warp core). Beyond that, what does he do? True, he doesn't blow up the refinery in "The Shipment", but that seems less of a Moral Choice, and more thinking in terms of long-term strategy: going in guns blazing isn't the smartest thing to do if you've only got one shot at that, and you haven't found the right target. In the final third of the season, Archer seems ready-- even eager-- to die for the cause, but why he's gone semi-suicidal isn't really explored. Despite Daniels coming from the future TWICE to tell him, "Yeah, you're important, you can't die," he seems hellbent on it anyway. There is a bit of lip service of not wanting to order someone else to their deaths, but that wasn't something ever really discussed.
What also didn't work was the lack of focus. Most of the first two-thirds is spent wandering: some of it ties to the Xindi or the Spheres, but the rest is largely irrelevant. It doesn't move the plot, nor is it called back later. So it doesn't serve a purpose. Perhaps if it had done more worldbuilding of the Expanse, creating encounters that mattered, so that they could be called upon at the endgame, then it would have seemed more meaningful. And that would have also tied into a Trek solution: humans build communities, create allies, so when the chips are down, friends come to their aid. But no species in the Expanse really were important other than the Xindi and the Spherebuilders. The Spherebuilders were, at the core, the Big Bad, and the Xindi-- while having solid individual character-actors-- themselves had no definition beyond "five subspecies in fractious alliance".
As counterpoint, I might present the end of Farscape's second-season. After two seasons of more or less random encounters-- those stand-alone episodes-- the crew is faced with having to do a Big Crazy Plan. And to pull it off, John Crichton calls on various species and people they've met along the way. Now those stand-alone's tie into the solution, and to worldbuilding as a whole.
But, credit where it's due: they took chances, and in the end, created something that had value. In my recent re-watch of it all, I was largely entertained. With a little more streamlining and focus (which, admittedly, in the world of episodic television, especially a decade ago, is challenging), it really could have stood out as something special.
---
*- The first two episodes had nothing to do with the Xindi storyline. Instead it involved time-traveling Nazi aliens, and served mostly to tie off the Temporal Cold War storyline, which had never been very well handled. "Zero Hour" ended with an exceptionally bizarre Hail Mary of a cliffhanger, and those episodes are at best a serviceable affair of digging themselves out of that hole, as well as the entire TCW one.
**- Though you have to wonder why, when the Xindi weapon showed up, Earth's only defense was, apparently, a single Andorian cruiser. It made for some satisfying drama, but didn't make much sense.
***- A clumsy drug-addiction metaphor.
"Home", the third episode* of the fourth season of Star Trek: Enterprise served as an epilogue to the Xindi Arc, primarily by dealing with the emotional fallout of the character subplots. Specifically, it focused on Capt. Archer, and Trip & T'Pol. Both of these aspects work fine in terms of the episode itself. For Archer, he's somewhat broken by the things he did in the Delphic Expanse. He specifically mentions the theft of the warp core, which as mentioned last week, was his greatest sin. But beyond that, his optimism about exploration in general is broken, despite the fact that things did end relatively well. This ties into the one other minor plot thread in "Home"-- the Enterprise crew might be hailed as heroes, but there are some people who aren't thrilled with the fact that they had spent two years running around space saying, "Hey, we're from Earth. Come on over and smack us around, why don't you?"** For Trip & T'Pol, their subplots of his grief over his dead sister (more or less resolved in "The Forgotten") and her emotional damage due to self-inflicted Trellium exposure*** dovetailed into their semi-romantic friendship. So they go to Vulcan together, and deal with T'Pol's family drama.
So, in the end, what worked, and what didn't in the Xindi Arc?
For me, the broad brushstrokes worked: a threat is presented, and to defend themselves from that threat, core principles are challenged and strained. Despite that, in the end, it is those core principles that saves the day: friendship is achieved with (most of) the Xindi council, creating a lasting peace through conversation.
What didn't work, though, is how things went in terms of character. Specifically, character never tied into plot in a real organic way. The closest was with Archer, who's moral center was challenged, but that balance between what he needed to do and what he had to bring himself to do always came more with an axe instead of a scalpel. Archer doesn't get a slow descent into darkness. He gets one questionable moment (putting a pirate in an airlock to get answers) and one really bad no-win scenario (the theft of the warp core). Beyond that, what does he do? True, he doesn't blow up the refinery in "The Shipment", but that seems less of a Moral Choice, and more thinking in terms of long-term strategy: going in guns blazing isn't the smartest thing to do if you've only got one shot at that, and you haven't found the right target. In the final third of the season, Archer seems ready-- even eager-- to die for the cause, but why he's gone semi-suicidal isn't really explored. Despite Daniels coming from the future TWICE to tell him, "Yeah, you're important, you can't die," he seems hellbent on it anyway. There is a bit of lip service of not wanting to order someone else to their deaths, but that wasn't something ever really discussed.
What also didn't work was the lack of focus. Most of the first two-thirds is spent wandering: some of it ties to the Xindi or the Spheres, but the rest is largely irrelevant. It doesn't move the plot, nor is it called back later. So it doesn't serve a purpose. Perhaps if it had done more worldbuilding of the Expanse, creating encounters that mattered, so that they could be called upon at the endgame, then it would have seemed more meaningful. And that would have also tied into a Trek solution: humans build communities, create allies, so when the chips are down, friends come to their aid. But no species in the Expanse really were important other than the Xindi and the Spherebuilders. The Spherebuilders were, at the core, the Big Bad, and the Xindi-- while having solid individual character-actors-- themselves had no definition beyond "five subspecies in fractious alliance".
As counterpoint, I might present the end of Farscape's second-season. After two seasons of more or less random encounters-- those stand-alone episodes-- the crew is faced with having to do a Big Crazy Plan. And to pull it off, John Crichton calls on various species and people they've met along the way. Now those stand-alone's tie into the solution, and to worldbuilding as a whole.
But, credit where it's due: they took chances, and in the end, created something that had value. In my recent re-watch of it all, I was largely entertained. With a little more streamlining and focus (which, admittedly, in the world of episodic television, especially a decade ago, is challenging), it really could have stood out as something special.
---
*- The first two episodes had nothing to do with the Xindi storyline. Instead it involved time-traveling Nazi aliens, and served mostly to tie off the Temporal Cold War storyline, which had never been very well handled. "Zero Hour" ended with an exceptionally bizarre Hail Mary of a cliffhanger, and those episodes are at best a serviceable affair of digging themselves out of that hole, as well as the entire TCW one.
**- Though you have to wonder why, when the Xindi weapon showed up, Earth's only defense was, apparently, a single Andorian cruiser. It made for some satisfying drama, but didn't make much sense.
***- A clumsy drug-addiction metaphor.
Monday, December 10, 2012
Analyzing Flawed Arc Structure, Part 4
Parts one, two and three.
The third act of the Xindi Arc is pretty action packed. On some level, it does make up for the heel-dragging and aimlessness of the first two thirds: Episodes are: "Hatchery", "Azati Prime", "Damage", "The Forgotten", "E2", "The Council", "Countdown" and "Zero Hour".
Of these eight, really only two are inessential: "Hatchery" and "E2". But both of them do speak to the character of the Enterprise crew. Since the one character-arc that's really tied to story-arc is "How far will Archer go?", to a degree "Hatchery" answers the question, "How far will the crew let him go?" Now, it approaches it from a different angle, where Archer goes to extreme measures to help a creche of Xindi-Insectoid infants, and the crew, sensing something wrong, engage in a mini-mutiny. As Archer is Being Affected By Something (a Trek staple to avoid actual conflict or responsibility), the real conflict boils down to the crew vs. Major Hayes, since Hayes just follows orders. This is also the closest thing we get to something resembling focus on the Xindi-Insectoids, who in terms of story never amount to actual characters, simply additional muscle to back up the Reptilians. "E2" is a kind of fun what-might-be time-travel episode, where the crew meets their descendents from a failed future-version of their mission, but other than turning the screws a bit tighter on the Trip/T'Pol romance, it's largely a placeholder.
That said, the three in between those episodes, "Azati Prime", "Damage" and "The Forgotten" do a very nice job illustrating the Collapse-Retreat-Recovery aspect of the Twelve-Part structure. The ship is really hammered, but at the same time Archer makes some connection with Degra and the other Xindi-Primates. It's here that the core Trek principles are pushed to their limits: having discovered the Xindi world-destroyer weapon, the first plan is just to blow it up. This goes wrong, and Archer gets captured, but in being captured, he uses his knowledge from "Stratagem" to his advantage. This convinces Degra enough to at least listen, and stop the Reptilians from attacking the Enterprise. Degra (with the help of the semi-enigmatic Aquatics) returns Archer to the broken ship, and sends message for a secret rendezvous a few light-years away. The ship being in such a state, making that rendezvous is impossible without a new warp-coil. Fortunately, there's another damaged ship nearby, and Archer feels forced to take theirs by force in order to make the meeting. This is without question his lowest point, committing for all intents an act of piracy in the name of saving Earth. It's very non-Trek, which works excellently for the sake of drama. Capt. Archer is torn up to do it, but he feels he has no choice. You could easily see, for example, Cmdr. Adama, John Crichton or Malcolm Reynolds doing the exact same thing under the same circumstances. The only question is, would they feel the same weight? As horrible as the act is, it is in service of, ultimately, a Trek-solution: solving the Xindi situation through dialogue instead of violence.
Of course, the cracks in the plotting armor are quite evident. Degra could have this clandestine meeting somewhere easier for Archer to reach, given that Degra knows the state Enterprise is in. He even could just go to Enterprise directly, and not even be clandestine. The need for secrecy from the Reptilians (and Insectoids) is a bit artificial. And that's a big part of the problem with this plotting, in that it forces Enterprise to go from Point A to Point B (this necessitating the stolen warp coil) and then from Point B to Point C (this using the subspace passage that creates the timetravel accident in E2, which is neatly avoided, meaning the second Enterprise may have "never existed".) It's mostly hoop-jumping so Degra can use Archer as a surprise in "The Council".
"The Council" is, in theory, Archer presenting his case that Earth is not a danger to the Xindi and that the Sphere-Builders/Guardians have been playing the Xindi for their own purposes. It's the latter point that is most crucial, since the Guardians are worshiped as deities by the Xindi, though they were unaware of the connection between the Guardians and the Spheres. While the Xindi Council has five groups, really only three matter: the Arboreals back up the Primates, and the Insectoids back up the Reptilians. And the Aquatics are the enigmatic deciders. In terms of character, it really boils down to Degra (Primate) and Dolim (Reptilian).
It should be noted that Randy Oglesby and Scott MacDonald deserve a lot of praise. Both are journeyman actors who have done tons of guest roles on various shows, including all four of the modern Treks.* They do solid work, often under a lot of latex, and you have to respect that kind of actor. In fact the real dramatic centerpiece of "The Council", and to a degree the turning point of the story arc itself, is between these two actors.
The final wrap-up of "Countdown" and "Zero Hour" is serviceable, in that the Xindi-Reptilians cement their role as the irredeemable villains, who have tied themselves to the Guardians. The Guardians, of course, want to reshape reality-- terraforming our space, as it were, to one that they can survive in. The Reptilians are their willing dupes. Even the Insectoids wise-up, though all they do is wonder why the Spheres are suddenly working to help their efforts to destroy the Earth before the Reptilians sudden-but-inevitable betrayal. The final push, in which Archer enlists Reed and Hoshi to destroy the weapon, saving the Earth, while Trip, T'Pol and Phlox destroy the Spheres themselves, saving the Xindi (and all of reality)-- is entertaining and fun, but sadly mostly involves pushing buttons and punching aliens. The highlight in terms of What-Makes-It-Trek is not the bit where annoying-time-travel-exposition-fairy Daniels pulls Archer to the founding of the Federation (to convince Archer not to sacrifice himself, something Archer is pretty hellbent to do). Instead, it's the moment where the Andorians show up to help defend the Earth. Jeffery Combs-- another strong member of Trek character-actor stable-- sells the hell out of it as the Andorian Commander Shran, and that's a lot of fun.
But in the end, it's a Big Finale: Things go Boom, and the Day Is Saved? Is that all there is? Is that all there can be? That's the big question remaining.
--
*- I'm fairly certain that the two of them and Jonathan Frakes are the only actors to appear in all four modern Treks.
The third act of the Xindi Arc is pretty action packed. On some level, it does make up for the heel-dragging and aimlessness of the first two thirds: Episodes are: "Hatchery", "Azati Prime", "Damage", "The Forgotten", "E2", "The Council", "Countdown" and "Zero Hour".
Of these eight, really only two are inessential: "Hatchery" and "E2". But both of them do speak to the character of the Enterprise crew. Since the one character-arc that's really tied to story-arc is "How far will Archer go?", to a degree "Hatchery" answers the question, "How far will the crew let him go?" Now, it approaches it from a different angle, where Archer goes to extreme measures to help a creche of Xindi-Insectoid infants, and the crew, sensing something wrong, engage in a mini-mutiny. As Archer is Being Affected By Something (a Trek staple to avoid actual conflict or responsibility), the real conflict boils down to the crew vs. Major Hayes, since Hayes just follows orders. This is also the closest thing we get to something resembling focus on the Xindi-Insectoids, who in terms of story never amount to actual characters, simply additional muscle to back up the Reptilians. "E2" is a kind of fun what-might-be time-travel episode, where the crew meets their descendents from a failed future-version of their mission, but other than turning the screws a bit tighter on the Trip/T'Pol romance, it's largely a placeholder.
That said, the three in between those episodes, "Azati Prime", "Damage" and "The Forgotten" do a very nice job illustrating the Collapse-Retreat-Recovery aspect of the Twelve-Part structure. The ship is really hammered, but at the same time Archer makes some connection with Degra and the other Xindi-Primates. It's here that the core Trek principles are pushed to their limits: having discovered the Xindi world-destroyer weapon, the first plan is just to blow it up. This goes wrong, and Archer gets captured, but in being captured, he uses his knowledge from "Stratagem" to his advantage. This convinces Degra enough to at least listen, and stop the Reptilians from attacking the Enterprise. Degra (with the help of the semi-enigmatic Aquatics) returns Archer to the broken ship, and sends message for a secret rendezvous a few light-years away. The ship being in such a state, making that rendezvous is impossible without a new warp-coil. Fortunately, there's another damaged ship nearby, and Archer feels forced to take theirs by force in order to make the meeting. This is without question his lowest point, committing for all intents an act of piracy in the name of saving Earth. It's very non-Trek, which works excellently for the sake of drama. Capt. Archer is torn up to do it, but he feels he has no choice. You could easily see, for example, Cmdr. Adama, John Crichton or Malcolm Reynolds doing the exact same thing under the same circumstances. The only question is, would they feel the same weight? As horrible as the act is, it is in service of, ultimately, a Trek-solution: solving the Xindi situation through dialogue instead of violence.
Of course, the cracks in the plotting armor are quite evident. Degra could have this clandestine meeting somewhere easier for Archer to reach, given that Degra knows the state Enterprise is in. He even could just go to Enterprise directly, and not even be clandestine. The need for secrecy from the Reptilians (and Insectoids) is a bit artificial. And that's a big part of the problem with this plotting, in that it forces Enterprise to go from Point A to Point B (this necessitating the stolen warp coil) and then from Point B to Point C (this using the subspace passage that creates the timetravel accident in E2, which is neatly avoided, meaning the second Enterprise may have "never existed".) It's mostly hoop-jumping so Degra can use Archer as a surprise in "The Council".
"The Council" is, in theory, Archer presenting his case that Earth is not a danger to the Xindi and that the Sphere-Builders/Guardians have been playing the Xindi for their own purposes. It's the latter point that is most crucial, since the Guardians are worshiped as deities by the Xindi, though they were unaware of the connection between the Guardians and the Spheres. While the Xindi Council has five groups, really only three matter: the Arboreals back up the Primates, and the Insectoids back up the Reptilians. And the Aquatics are the enigmatic deciders. In terms of character, it really boils down to Degra (Primate) and Dolim (Reptilian).
It should be noted that Randy Oglesby and Scott MacDonald deserve a lot of praise. Both are journeyman actors who have done tons of guest roles on various shows, including all four of the modern Treks.* They do solid work, often under a lot of latex, and you have to respect that kind of actor. In fact the real dramatic centerpiece of "The Council", and to a degree the turning point of the story arc itself, is between these two actors.
The final wrap-up of "Countdown" and "Zero Hour" is serviceable, in that the Xindi-Reptilians cement their role as the irredeemable villains, who have tied themselves to the Guardians. The Guardians, of course, want to reshape reality-- terraforming our space, as it were, to one that they can survive in. The Reptilians are their willing dupes. Even the Insectoids wise-up, though all they do is wonder why the Spheres are suddenly working to help their efforts to destroy the Earth before the Reptilians sudden-but-inevitable betrayal. The final push, in which Archer enlists Reed and Hoshi to destroy the weapon, saving the Earth, while Trip, T'Pol and Phlox destroy the Spheres themselves, saving the Xindi (and all of reality)-- is entertaining and fun, but sadly mostly involves pushing buttons and punching aliens. The highlight in terms of What-Makes-It-Trek is not the bit where annoying-time-travel-exposition-fairy Daniels pulls Archer to the founding of the Federation (to convince Archer not to sacrifice himself, something Archer is pretty hellbent to do). Instead, it's the moment where the Andorians show up to help defend the Earth. Jeffery Combs-- another strong member of Trek character-actor stable-- sells the hell out of it as the Andorian Commander Shran, and that's a lot of fun.
But in the end, it's a Big Finale: Things go Boom, and the Day Is Saved? Is that all there is? Is that all there can be? That's the big question remaining.
--
*- I'm fairly certain that the two of them and Jonathan Frakes are the only actors to appear in all four modern Treks.
Thursday, December 6, 2012
Analyzing Flawed Arc Structure, Part 3
A continuation of my analysis of the Xindi-arc of Star Trek: Enterprise. Parts one and two.
The argument could be made that the first third was a "slow build", putting pieces in play that would be needed later. While there is some truth to that (Rajiin introduces the idea of the Xindi working on a biological weapon as a Plan B, and Exile has a B-plot in which a connection between the Spheres and the Anomalies is made clear-- but both of those are drops of data in otherwise wheel-spinning exercises.)
So, onto the middle third of the arc, things should pick up? Should, yes. But doesn't. This middle third batch of episodes are: North Star, Similitude, Carpenter Street, Chosen Realm, Proving Ground, Stratagem, Harbinger and Doctor's Orders. Of this batch of eight, only three do any heavy lifting in terms of the arc plot, and they're back-to-back-to-back: Proving Ground, Stratagem and Harbinger. The rest are very mushy mushy-middle stuff.
The two biggest missteps are North Star and Carpenter Street. Strictly speaking, Carpenter Street does do some arc-work, but it's not compelling. Both these bits suffer from having an "neat idea" supersede what the story arc really needs. In the case of North Star, it was doing an old-school, Original-series style of episode where they come across a planet that's a History Planet instead of an alien world, in this case, the Old West, and it doesn't tie to the Xindi arc at all. It's disposable. For Carpenter Street, it's having the characters time-travel to modern-day Earth. For that, it does tie to the arc, in that they go back to stop Xindi Reptilians in Earth's past who are preparing the biological weapon. The time travel is so incidental for both parties, it's pure handwavium, and raises more "If they can do that..." questions than the arc wants to answer. It does, in the end, provide Capt. Archer with something tangible, and that proves important later... but that could have been achieved without the time travel mess.
Chosen Realm is largely disposable, but it throws a small long-term setback into the mix by having all the data they've collected on the Expanse and the spheres deleted from their computer. It's only small because it doesn't seem to slow them down significantly. It also introduces the idea of Who Built The Spheres, and that said Builders might be worshiped. Similitude and Doctor's Orders are also relatively disposable, but both of them are, at least, nice character pieces. Similitude again pushes the character-arc question for Capt. Archer: how far will he go to succeed? In this case, he allows a sentient being to be born and live for a short period of time in order to save Trip's life, on the principle that he cannot succeed without Trip. The plot requires a lot more of sci-fi handwavium (Dr. Phlox happens to have a Morally Questionable Miracle in the back of his cupboard...), but it works if you can swallow that pill. Doctor's Orders is fun enough, carried largely by John Billingsley's charm. It does built off the idea that the Spheres are Changing Space, set up in Harbinger, so that helps give it some purpose.
Fortunately, Proving Ground, Stratagem and Harbinger do some good work. The first two bring the Xindi and the Xindi Weapon into focus, largely through Degra, the Xindi-Primate who is responsible for actually designing the weapon. An excellent job is done in these episodes changing him from a Nameless Councilmember to a real character, someone who has agreed to do something terrible because he believes it's necessary. Strategem in particular, is a fun exercise, because it plays the "You don't remember but it's been a few years and we're friends now" trope in reverse-- having our protagonists be the perpetrators of the trick instead of the victims. But in doing so, Archer gets to know Degra the Man, as opposed to Degra the Weapon Builder, which also helps shift things towards a more Trek-oriented Final Solution. Harbinger, of these three, does suffer somewhat because it feels more disposable than it actually is: it's mostly character work, filling the time from the travel-with-purpose to Azati Prime (the location of the weapon construction, learned in Strategem) to work on character subplots. It turns the screws on the Trip/T'Pol romance, as well as the Reed/Hayes hostility. And, as mentioned, it sets up the Real Villain: The Sphere Builders. In doing that, the stakes are changed.
However, one should avoid having the word "disposable" being used too much, especially in the middle third of a storyline. It leads your audience to wander away and say, "I don't know what's going on, really". And who wants that? In terms of twelve-part structure, I feel like this only really brings us to Part Five: Payback (with the Sphere Builders being brought into play showing the real stakes). Five/twelfths of story when we're two-thirds in? Problematic. But it does offer the opportunity for a fast-paced final act.
The argument could be made that the first third was a "slow build", putting pieces in play that would be needed later. While there is some truth to that (Rajiin introduces the idea of the Xindi working on a biological weapon as a Plan B, and Exile has a B-plot in which a connection between the Spheres and the Anomalies is made clear-- but both of those are drops of data in otherwise wheel-spinning exercises.)
So, onto the middle third of the arc, things should pick up? Should, yes. But doesn't. This middle third batch of episodes are: North Star, Similitude, Carpenter Street, Chosen Realm, Proving Ground, Stratagem, Harbinger and Doctor's Orders. Of this batch of eight, only three do any heavy lifting in terms of the arc plot, and they're back-to-back-to-back: Proving Ground, Stratagem and Harbinger. The rest are very mushy mushy-middle stuff.
The two biggest missteps are North Star and Carpenter Street. Strictly speaking, Carpenter Street does do some arc-work, but it's not compelling. Both these bits suffer from having an "neat idea" supersede what the story arc really needs. In the case of North Star, it was doing an old-school, Original-series style of episode where they come across a planet that's a History Planet instead of an alien world, in this case, the Old West, and it doesn't tie to the Xindi arc at all. It's disposable. For Carpenter Street, it's having the characters time-travel to modern-day Earth. For that, it does tie to the arc, in that they go back to stop Xindi Reptilians in Earth's past who are preparing the biological weapon. The time travel is so incidental for both parties, it's pure handwavium, and raises more "If they can do that..." questions than the arc wants to answer. It does, in the end, provide Capt. Archer with something tangible, and that proves important later... but that could have been achieved without the time travel mess.
Chosen Realm is largely disposable, but it throws a small long-term setback into the mix by having all the data they've collected on the Expanse and the spheres deleted from their computer. It's only small because it doesn't seem to slow them down significantly. It also introduces the idea of Who Built The Spheres, and that said Builders might be worshiped. Similitude and Doctor's Orders are also relatively disposable, but both of them are, at least, nice character pieces. Similitude again pushes the character-arc question for Capt. Archer: how far will he go to succeed? In this case, he allows a sentient being to be born and live for a short period of time in order to save Trip's life, on the principle that he cannot succeed without Trip. The plot requires a lot more of sci-fi handwavium (Dr. Phlox happens to have a Morally Questionable Miracle in the back of his cupboard...), but it works if you can swallow that pill. Doctor's Orders is fun enough, carried largely by John Billingsley's charm. It does built off the idea that the Spheres are Changing Space, set up in Harbinger, so that helps give it some purpose.
Fortunately, Proving Ground, Stratagem and Harbinger do some good work. The first two bring the Xindi and the Xindi Weapon into focus, largely through Degra, the Xindi-Primate who is responsible for actually designing the weapon. An excellent job is done in these episodes changing him from a Nameless Councilmember to a real character, someone who has agreed to do something terrible because he believes it's necessary. Strategem in particular, is a fun exercise, because it plays the "You don't remember but it's been a few years and we're friends now" trope in reverse-- having our protagonists be the perpetrators of the trick instead of the victims. But in doing so, Archer gets to know Degra the Man, as opposed to Degra the Weapon Builder, which also helps shift things towards a more Trek-oriented Final Solution. Harbinger, of these three, does suffer somewhat because it feels more disposable than it actually is: it's mostly character work, filling the time from the travel-with-purpose to Azati Prime (the location of the weapon construction, learned in Strategem) to work on character subplots. It turns the screws on the Trip/T'Pol romance, as well as the Reed/Hayes hostility. And, as mentioned, it sets up the Real Villain: The Sphere Builders. In doing that, the stakes are changed.
However, one should avoid having the word "disposable" being used too much, especially in the middle third of a storyline. It leads your audience to wander away and say, "I don't know what's going on, really". And who wants that? In terms of twelve-part structure, I feel like this only really brings us to Part Five: Payback (with the Sphere Builders being brought into play showing the real stakes). Five/twelfths of story when we're two-thirds in? Problematic. But it does offer the opportunity for a fast-paced final act.
Monday, November 26, 2012
Analyzing Flawed Arc Structure, Part 1
Of course, there is much to learn from the masters. But there is also plenty to learn from mistakes. And the great thing is, there are so many out there, you don't need to make them yourself. One thing I've made several analyses of is arc structure, specifically in the work I did to create my Twelve-Part Story Structure. Even the stuff that didn't work.
Now, for these purposes, I want to talk about something that, as a story arc, was a great example of stepping up to the plate, pointing to the fences... and then hitting a double. Not terrible, but... not really what you were hoping to do, either.
I'm going to talk about the third season "Xindi Arc" of Star Trek: Enterprise.
I can imagine all the raised eyebrows.
But bear with me here. Like I said, I'm talking about flawed works.
So, some background: Star Trek: Enterprise was the fifth and final (to date) Star Trek series, and it came loaded with controversy. As a prequel, set a century and change before the classic Trek, and two centuries before the three other modern versions, it set some fan's teeth on edge from the beginning, for a variety of reasons.*
I enjoyed the show, but where the flaws really stand out in the first two seasons, are when it comes to stakes and drama. Stakes were, frankly, consistently low, and from that, drama stayed low. The show barely took itself seriously, aiming more often for light comedy and cheap titillation** over any real human drama. When you come down to it, for much of the first two seasons, the "mission", such as it was, involved tooling around and delivering fruit baskets to the neighbors. "Hi, we're from Earth, nice to meet you!" Yeah, the mission was "explore!", but it came off more as, "Eh, fly around and see what happens."
Season Three was where they changed things up: both in terms of trying something new for Trek in general, and in raising the stakes for the characters themselves. The stakes were high for the show as well. In 2003, Firefly had come and gone, BSG had a fantastic beginning***, and Enterprise was almost quaint in comparison. The need to reinvent themselves was paramount.
So they tried a season-long arc, with a more reactive, aggressive mission. The underlying hook was pretty simple: Earth suffers a devastating surprise attack, and the Enterprise is the only ship capable of investigating-- and possibly retaliating against-- whoever was behind the attack. Woven into that was a crucial question: Can Trek maintain its relevance in modern television, while at the same time maintaining the core values of hope and peace that made Trek Trek?
The overall story-arc consumes the third season, which was a first for Trek, even though DS9 had done more than its share of long-arc plotting. But the third-season of Enterprise was far more focused towards it's arc plot, dedicating almost every episode**** to the arc, as well as the second season finale as a prologue, and the third episode of the fourth season as epilogue.
So: we can't fault the ambition behind it. You can definitely say they tried.
With that, next installment I'll break down the arc into its sections, and how each one worked or didn't work.
---
*- A lot of those reason boiled down to continuity complaints, or rather "continuity", because more often than not, Enterprise didn't contradict established continuity as much as it contradicted fandom presumptions. There are plenty of legitimate gripes with the series, but I found many hard to take seriously when they boiled down to, "This ruins my fanfic!"
**- Much has been made of the show sexing-up Jolene Blalock, which is totally true. But, to be fair, they were just as eager to strip absolutely every cast member down whenever they could remotely justify it.
***- The ending was another story...
****- Almost. Which is one of the problems I'll get into.
Now, for these purposes, I want to talk about something that, as a story arc, was a great example of stepping up to the plate, pointing to the fences... and then hitting a double. Not terrible, but... not really what you were hoping to do, either.
I'm going to talk about the third season "Xindi Arc" of Star Trek: Enterprise.
I can imagine all the raised eyebrows.
But bear with me here. Like I said, I'm talking about flawed works.
So, some background: Star Trek: Enterprise was the fifth and final (to date) Star Trek series, and it came loaded with controversy. As a prequel, set a century and change before the classic Trek, and two centuries before the three other modern versions, it set some fan's teeth on edge from the beginning, for a variety of reasons.*
I enjoyed the show, but where the flaws really stand out in the first two seasons, are when it comes to stakes and drama. Stakes were, frankly, consistently low, and from that, drama stayed low. The show barely took itself seriously, aiming more often for light comedy and cheap titillation** over any real human drama. When you come down to it, for much of the first two seasons, the "mission", such as it was, involved tooling around and delivering fruit baskets to the neighbors. "Hi, we're from Earth, nice to meet you!" Yeah, the mission was "explore!", but it came off more as, "Eh, fly around and see what happens."
Season Three was where they changed things up: both in terms of trying something new for Trek in general, and in raising the stakes for the characters themselves. The stakes were high for the show as well. In 2003, Firefly had come and gone, BSG had a fantastic beginning***, and Enterprise was almost quaint in comparison. The need to reinvent themselves was paramount.
So they tried a season-long arc, with a more reactive, aggressive mission. The underlying hook was pretty simple: Earth suffers a devastating surprise attack, and the Enterprise is the only ship capable of investigating-- and possibly retaliating against-- whoever was behind the attack. Woven into that was a crucial question: Can Trek maintain its relevance in modern television, while at the same time maintaining the core values of hope and peace that made Trek Trek?
The overall story-arc consumes the third season, which was a first for Trek, even though DS9 had done more than its share of long-arc plotting. But the third-season of Enterprise was far more focused towards it's arc plot, dedicating almost every episode**** to the arc, as well as the second season finale as a prologue, and the third episode of the fourth season as epilogue.
So: we can't fault the ambition behind it. You can definitely say they tried.
With that, next installment I'll break down the arc into its sections, and how each one worked or didn't work.
---
*- A lot of those reason boiled down to continuity complaints, or rather "continuity", because more often than not, Enterprise didn't contradict established continuity as much as it contradicted fandom presumptions. There are plenty of legitimate gripes with the series, but I found many hard to take seriously when they boiled down to, "This ruins my fanfic!"
**- Much has been made of the show sexing-up Jolene Blalock, which is totally true. But, to be fair, they were just as eager to strip absolutely every cast member down whenever they could remotely justify it.
***- The ending was another story...
****- Almost. Which is one of the problems I'll get into.
Thursday, November 1, 2012
Perils of the Writer: The Slow Process of Getting the Ball Rolling
¡Feliz dÃa de los muertos! We're now in November, which for some writerly types, means NaNoWriMo, aka Nation Novel Writing Month. If you aren't in the know, participants pledge to write a 50,000 word novel over the course of November. This translates to writing approximately 16,666 words a day. Back in the early days of writing, I participated, but I don't anymore, since every month is Novel Writing Month, and at this point in my life, a pace of 50K a month for 12 months is not something I could ever hope to maintain. Writing at my own pace is just fine by me.
In my opinion, NaNoWriMo is an excellent exercise in terms of process, in learning how to write a novel... but not one in terms of results. The novel you write in one month won't be a particularly useful one, not without significant editing. Briefly: I think it's a wonderful way to crank out a trunk novel. One of my trunk novels was, in fact, a NaNoWriMo.*
But exercise and process are important, especially when it comes to getting started. Getting a novel started is, for me, a very slow and deliberate process, in that the path from conception to writing actual text can take quite some time. I sometimes make the metaphor of my writing brain being like a kitchen, with various projects on front and back burners. But then there is other stuff in crockpots on back counters, slowly stewing away for years until they are really ready to work.
Phase One: Conception.
This is, more or less, the Big Idea phase of things, where the thunderstrike of a Shiny New Story smashes across your brainpan. It's usually the broadest of brushstrokes: Steampunk Airship Flying Through Alternate Universe Texas! Secret Telepath War In Manhattan! Abducted Human Wakes from Hibernation Sleep on a Dying Ship Full of other Abducted Aliens! Cold hard truth: 75-90% of projects never get out of this phase. It's always a bit fun and exciting, but it's also easy to mistake that Fun and Exciting for "And now I will write the book". That never works, at least for me. Though I suspect that many people-- at least non-writers-- believe that this phase is all you need to write the book.**
Phase Two: Setting.
Once I have an idea, I need to build the place where it unfolds. I'm a worldbuilder, it's what I do. For me, this phase is all too crucial: it's about placing the gears that will power the engine behind the story. This phase can often be the longest, because it is filled with working and reworking things out. If it doesn't work, if it doesn't make sense to me, then the center doesn't hold. Case in point: when I initially conceived my Space Opera Setting, back in 2002, I created some initial star maps with colonies and alien homeworlds and such and so forth. But as I first tried to write, this signal of WRONG WRONG WRONG across my brain was jamming things up. Why? It took a while to realize, but I finally hit upon it: the stars of these colonies and alien worlds, while being in close proximity to Earth, had nothing to do with actual stars close to Earth. Back to the drawing board.
Phase Three-A: Characters.
Phase Three-B: Circumstances.
I put these two together like this because they tend to go hand in hand, but I can't honestly say which one goes first. Both things are crucial to figuring out what the actual story is: what's happening, and who it's happening to. It's a strange, intertwined process that, frankly, I haven't quite mastered. Trying to craft circumstances without knowing character at the center can yield something soulless and mechanical. But crafting characters without really knowing the story can make an unholy mess, where you end up with numerous people standing around with very little to do. The best solution I've found is to, at this phase, focus on just the core characters and the ripe circumstances that initiates things, and let it flow from there.
Phase Four: Outline
Now that I've worked out the key elements, who, what, where, when and (to a degree) why, it's a time for a big helping of how. Of course, I use my Twelve-Part Structure as a base, writing out about a paragraph for each part. With that finally in hand, THEN I can start Actually Writing.
___
*- I gave it significant editing afterwards. It's still a trunk novel, and that's what it deserves, frankly.
**- This is where those, "I've got a great idea for a book, so you write it and we'll split the profits!" pitches come from.
In my opinion, NaNoWriMo is an excellent exercise in terms of process, in learning how to write a novel... but not one in terms of results. The novel you write in one month won't be a particularly useful one, not without significant editing. Briefly: I think it's a wonderful way to crank out a trunk novel. One of my trunk novels was, in fact, a NaNoWriMo.*
But exercise and process are important, especially when it comes to getting started. Getting a novel started is, for me, a very slow and deliberate process, in that the path from conception to writing actual text can take quite some time. I sometimes make the metaphor of my writing brain being like a kitchen, with various projects on front and back burners. But then there is other stuff in crockpots on back counters, slowly stewing away for years until they are really ready to work.
Phase One: Conception.
This is, more or less, the Big Idea phase of things, where the thunderstrike of a Shiny New Story smashes across your brainpan. It's usually the broadest of brushstrokes: Steampunk Airship Flying Through Alternate Universe Texas! Secret Telepath War In Manhattan! Abducted Human Wakes from Hibernation Sleep on a Dying Ship Full of other Abducted Aliens! Cold hard truth: 75-90% of projects never get out of this phase. It's always a bit fun and exciting, but it's also easy to mistake that Fun and Exciting for "And now I will write the book". That never works, at least for me. Though I suspect that many people-- at least non-writers-- believe that this phase is all you need to write the book.**
Phase Two: Setting.
Once I have an idea, I need to build the place where it unfolds. I'm a worldbuilder, it's what I do. For me, this phase is all too crucial: it's about placing the gears that will power the engine behind the story. This phase can often be the longest, because it is filled with working and reworking things out. If it doesn't work, if it doesn't make sense to me, then the center doesn't hold. Case in point: when I initially conceived my Space Opera Setting, back in 2002, I created some initial star maps with colonies and alien homeworlds and such and so forth. But as I first tried to write, this signal of WRONG WRONG WRONG across my brain was jamming things up. Why? It took a while to realize, but I finally hit upon it: the stars of these colonies and alien worlds, while being in close proximity to Earth, had nothing to do with actual stars close to Earth. Back to the drawing board.
Phase Three-A: Characters.
Phase Three-B: Circumstances.
I put these two together like this because they tend to go hand in hand, but I can't honestly say which one goes first. Both things are crucial to figuring out what the actual story is: what's happening, and who it's happening to. It's a strange, intertwined process that, frankly, I haven't quite mastered. Trying to craft circumstances without knowing character at the center can yield something soulless and mechanical. But crafting characters without really knowing the story can make an unholy mess, where you end up with numerous people standing around with very little to do. The best solution I've found is to, at this phase, focus on just the core characters and the ripe circumstances that initiates things, and let it flow from there.
Phase Four: Outline
Now that I've worked out the key elements, who, what, where, when and (to a degree) why, it's a time for a big helping of how. Of course, I use my Twelve-Part Structure as a base, writing out about a paragraph for each part. With that finally in hand, THEN I can start Actually Writing.
___
*- I gave it significant editing afterwards. It's still a trunk novel, and that's what it deserves, frankly.
**- This is where those, "I've got a great idea for a book, so you write it and we'll split the profits!" pitches come from.
Monday, May 14, 2012
Avengers and Twelve-Part Structure
I had been thinking about movies and the studio-system's somewhat slavish devotion to "three act structure", which more and more I'm seeing as a big problem in modern cinema, and too often I'm seeing that same advice being given to novelists. And that's a shame, because three-act structure is bad advice for movies, and it's downright horrible for novels.
That's partly because "three act structure" is more or less another way of saying "beginning, middle and end". And that's where a lot of screenwriters and novelists get into trouble: "Act 2 problems" or "the murky middle". It's because, when you come down to it, "rising action" doesn't really give you a lot to go on. It's a fancy way of saying "more stuff happens until the finale", but that tends to get translated into wheel-spinning and "refusing the call" (in Campbellian terms) as a way to mark time until the finale happens.*
This is the problem in using tools of deconstruction and analysis and trying to use them for construction and creation. They aren't meant to be used that way. Now, admittedly, I did use deconstruction and analysis to create the Twelve-Part Structure, but I did it as a means of making a tool of construction and creation.
I could probably go on for a bit on the perils of three-act structure and using analysis tools for creation, but I won't. I will, however, point out how things that succeed at being at engaging don't use three-act structure. And when I saw the Twelve-Part Structure so evident in Avengers, I was pretty damn gleeful.**
Some spoilers from here on out.
Establishment: Loki shows up out of the Cosmic Cube, enthralls Hawkeye and Dr. Solveig, SHIELD fails to stop him. With this, we establish the world and the stakes-- namely, this is a world where stuff like this happens.
Incitement: Gather the Team sequences: Fury talks to Cap, Natasha shows her skills and recruits Banner, Coulson talks to Tony.
Challenge: Loki begins his "distraction" plan in Germany, where Hawkeye does the real plan. Cap fights Loki, and then Tony shows up and subdues him.
Altercation: Thor shows up to take Loki, and then Tony and Thor and Cap all fight each other over essentially jurisdiction issues.
Payback: Loki is locked up, but all the Team squabbles with each other over petty tings. In other words, Loki's subtle discord is sewn.
Regrouping: Natasha gets info out of Loki, the Team gets a better sense over what's actually happening.
Collapse: Intergroup squabbling reaches a fevered pitch, as they discover SHIELD's plans for the Cosmic Cube. Hawkeye attacks the Helicarrier.
Retreat: Hulk smash, Tony and Cap work on keeping the Helicarrier in the air, Loki escapes and kills Coulson.
Recovery: Tony and Cap fix the Helicarrier, Natasha smacks Hawkeye's head back together, Bruce wakes up with Harry Dean Stanton.
Investment: Coulson's bloody Captain America cards, Tony gives his Big Speech to Loki, and the portal of Alien Destruction opens up.
Confrontation: BIG. DAMN. FIGHT.
Resolution: Hulk smashes the puny God. Tony throws a nuke at the aliens. Natasha closes the portal. Loki is captured, Thor brings him home. Fury gives a speech. Shawarma.
Yeah, you could break that into "three acts", but you'd be being pretty reductive about what actually happens. Whedon was essentially given "three acts" by the studio people (namely, "Heroes come together, then they fight each other and split apart, and then they come together for Big Damn Fight"). With a lesser script that could have ended up as more wheelspinning non-action-- or worse, some kind of Plot Coupon collection in lieu of an actual story in the middle.*** Instead, with a more complicated structure, you get a FAR more engaging work.
--
*- Another superhero movie example: Green Lantern. That's just full of wheel-spinning until the third-act turn where Hal Jordan, the supposedly fearless guy with near-limitless power, finally decides that maybe he should try and do something. And by "do something" I mean tell a bunch of people he previously blew off that they should do something.
**- I am NOT claiming that Whedon is aware of my Twelve-Part Structure, or that he necessarily used it or a similar framework. It's more that Twelve-Part Structure fits as a framework quite nicely.
***- I'm looking at you, Percy Jackson movie.
That's partly because "three act structure" is more or less another way of saying "beginning, middle and end". And that's where a lot of screenwriters and novelists get into trouble: "Act 2 problems" or "the murky middle". It's because, when you come down to it, "rising action" doesn't really give you a lot to go on. It's a fancy way of saying "more stuff happens until the finale", but that tends to get translated into wheel-spinning and "refusing the call" (in Campbellian terms) as a way to mark time until the finale happens.*
This is the problem in using tools of deconstruction and analysis and trying to use them for construction and creation. They aren't meant to be used that way. Now, admittedly, I did use deconstruction and analysis to create the Twelve-Part Structure, but I did it as a means of making a tool of construction and creation.
I could probably go on for a bit on the perils of three-act structure and using analysis tools for creation, but I won't. I will, however, point out how things that succeed at being at engaging don't use three-act structure. And when I saw the Twelve-Part Structure so evident in Avengers, I was pretty damn gleeful.**
Some spoilers from here on out.
Establishment: Loki shows up out of the Cosmic Cube, enthralls Hawkeye and Dr. Solveig, SHIELD fails to stop him. With this, we establish the world and the stakes-- namely, this is a world where stuff like this happens.
Incitement: Gather the Team sequences: Fury talks to Cap, Natasha shows her skills and recruits Banner, Coulson talks to Tony.
Challenge: Loki begins his "distraction" plan in Germany, where Hawkeye does the real plan. Cap fights Loki, and then Tony shows up and subdues him.
Altercation: Thor shows up to take Loki, and then Tony and Thor and Cap all fight each other over essentially jurisdiction issues.
Payback: Loki is locked up, but all the Team squabbles with each other over petty tings. In other words, Loki's subtle discord is sewn.
Regrouping: Natasha gets info out of Loki, the Team gets a better sense over what's actually happening.
Collapse: Intergroup squabbling reaches a fevered pitch, as they discover SHIELD's plans for the Cosmic Cube. Hawkeye attacks the Helicarrier.
Retreat: Hulk smash, Tony and Cap work on keeping the Helicarrier in the air, Loki escapes and kills Coulson.
Recovery: Tony and Cap fix the Helicarrier, Natasha smacks Hawkeye's head back together, Bruce wakes up with Harry Dean Stanton.
Investment: Coulson's bloody Captain America cards, Tony gives his Big Speech to Loki, and the portal of Alien Destruction opens up.
Confrontation: BIG. DAMN. FIGHT.
Resolution: Hulk smashes the puny God. Tony throws a nuke at the aliens. Natasha closes the portal. Loki is captured, Thor brings him home. Fury gives a speech. Shawarma.
Yeah, you could break that into "three acts", but you'd be being pretty reductive about what actually happens. Whedon was essentially given "three acts" by the studio people (namely, "Heroes come together, then they fight each other and split apart, and then they come together for Big Damn Fight"). With a lesser script that could have ended up as more wheelspinning non-action-- or worse, some kind of Plot Coupon collection in lieu of an actual story in the middle.*** Instead, with a more complicated structure, you get a FAR more engaging work.
--
*- Another superhero movie example: Green Lantern. That's just full of wheel-spinning until the third-act turn where Hal Jordan, the supposedly fearless guy with near-limitless power, finally decides that maybe he should try and do something. And by "do something" I mean tell a bunch of people he previously blew off that they should do something.
**- I am NOT claiming that Whedon is aware of my Twelve-Part Structure, or that he necessarily used it or a similar framework. It's more that Twelve-Part Structure fits as a framework quite nicely.
***- I'm looking at you, Percy Jackson movie.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Third Act and Second Book Problems
Of late, in addition to hammering at the rough draft of Way of the Shield (yes, that's just a working title), I've been cranking out summaries for intended second and third books for Holver Alley Crew and Maradaine Constabulary. Frankly, this part of the process is fun, but it is definitely something of a battle. And right now the biggest battle is turning the rough notes of the third act of Maradaine Constabulary 3 (working title: This Most August Body) into something coherent enough for other people to make sense of. Included with this is doing it in a way that A. makes for a nice resolution to the story of the book proper and B. turns the screws on arcplots.
Going back to my six-book arc structure, roughly speaking, book three is where the first shoe drops. Without giving away spoilers (for a book that, in a wildly-successful supremely best-case scenario, probably wouldn't come out until 2016), I know what that shoe drop is, and I know why it's going to happen... but key points of the how are still eluding me. I think I'm on the verge of figuring it out.
Of course, there's only so much you can pack into a thousand-odd word summary. One of my crit partners commented on my summary for Maradaine Constabulary 2 (working title: The Little East):
Going back to my six-book arc structure, roughly speaking, book three is where the first shoe drops. Without giving away spoilers (for a book that, in a wildly-successful supremely best-case scenario, probably wouldn't come out until 2016), I know what that shoe drop is, and I know why it's going to happen... but key points of the how are still eluding me. I think I'm on the verge of figuring it out.
Of course, there's only so much you can pack into a thousand-odd word summary. One of my crit partners commented on my summary for Maradaine Constabulary 2 (working title: The Little East):
I'm guessing you went for a who-dunnit with a colorful cast of suspects, but it's not quite coming across in the outline, to me. What makes the suspects interesting?
A fair question, but it goes right to that point: the summary only gives the bones of the story. I have reasonable confidence in my ability to do character and dialogue work (playwriting background, after all) to make the suspect pool dynamic and interesting. But the summary won't make that clear. Heck, the summary only names about half of the suspects. (My outline notes are more complete along those lines.)
So that's what's on my plate this week: cracking the third act of MCI03, and continuing to dig my way through the word mines for Way of the Shield. What are you all working on?
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Wheels within wheels
Part of looking at the big picture means not only making plans for further installments, but making sure that those further installments also involve good plotting and storytelling.* The series has to work, as well as the individual books.
Because, let's face it, we use the term 'series' to describe two very different things. One type, like Lord of the Rings of The Belgariad, is actually a single story, which happens to be broken down into several separate books, for one reason or another.** The other type, like Harry Potter, tells an overarching story, but each books stands on its own as an individual unit. The latter is the type I prefer, and that's what I intend to write. But the overarching story needs to pay off, as well as the individual books.
This is where I go back to the Twelve-Part Structure. It can apply to whatever grand arc-plot the series has, as well as each individual book. How much of the twelve-part structure goes into each book, that depends on how many books you plan for your series.*** Trilogies are easy to break down. Tetrologies work, but come out a bit odd in the twelve-part structure. Pent- and Heptologies, which seem to be the very popular****, don't necessarily break cleanly, but that isn't a big deal. But personally, I like the Hexology. Possibly because it breaks down so cleanly with my twelve-part structure. So this is how it works for the Hexology, though it's pretty easy to re-work it as you see fit for however many books you think your series should have.
Book 1: Establishment and Incitement. This is pretty clear, as any first book in a series need to set establish the players of the larger arc-plot, and lay the hints for the bigger things to come. On the whole, this story needs to stand on its own the most, for obvious reasons.
Book 2: Challenge and Altercation. The plot of this story needs to turn the screws tighter on the larger plot. Here, really, is where your main characters realize that something bigger is looming, and they will have to deal with it. More important is, though, is that in Book 2 your main characters need to be challenged far beyond whatever Book 1 did to them, they need to push themselves further than they thought they were capable of, and they should prevail.
Book 3: Payback and Regrouping. On some level, Book 3 should be a dark mirror of Book 1. In the grand scheme of things, Book 1 is a romp (even if it leaves plenty of bodies on the floor). Book 3 should make the problems of Book 1 look like fun and games. But even with that, it can feel like conclusion, in terms of the arc. It can feel like, despite the things your heroes go through, everything is going to be all right.
Book 4: Collapse and Retreat. Everything isn't going to be all right. This is where the hammer drops. On whatever sliding scale you use, Books One through Three were walks in the park. Book 4 doesn't leave scars, it leaves walking wounded. This phase of your arc needs to be about despair. Even if the individual plot of Book Four can be considered a "victory" for your heroes, it's a Pyrrhic one at best. Things will not be the same after this.
Book 5: Recovery and Investment. The arc is in a dark place in the beginning of Book 5. The dark place is the "new normal" that the characters need to believe they live in, and the plot of Book 5 needs to be their fight back to the light. This is where they consider quitting. This is where they decide they can't do that.
Book 6: Confrontation and Resolution. The last book is, of course, about wrapping up the arc plot.
That's how I break it into six books, but like I said, it's easy to shift and shuffle that for however many books your series is. Take, for example, a classic example of seven: Harry Potter.
Sorcerer's Stone (Establishment and Incitement): Harry learns about the magical world and his history (Establishment) and makes the decision that he stands against Voldemort and what he represents (Incitement).
Chamber of Secrets (Challenge and Altercation): Harry learns that the legacy of Voldemort has deeper roots than he expected, and it's still effecting his life (Challenge), and in facing Tom Riddle and the basilisk, he steps up to actively fight that legacy (Altercation).
Prisoner of Azkhaban (Payback and Regrouping): Harry faces uncomfortable truths about his parents, having to confront his own fears directly (Payback). He stands up to those fears, masters the Patronus, is able to fight off the Dementors, and gains some apparent stability through his relationship with Sirius (Regrouping).
Goblet of Fire (Collapse): Voldemort is back and Cedric is dead. Things just got serious.
Order of the Phoenix (Retreat and Recovery): Harry is devastated, ridiculed and tormented over the events of Goblet, and through Umbridge, the system itself is against him (Retreat). Despite that, he pulls it together and creates Dumbledore's Army, and refuses to go along with the lies of the Ministry (Recovery).
Half-Blood Prince (Investment): In learning the full scope of what it will take to stop Voldemort, and losing Dumbledore, Harry decides it is his responsibility to defeat Voldemort.
Deathly Hallows (Confrontation and Resolution): Harry goes after the horcruxes (Confrontation), and then faces Voldemort in the Battle of Hogwarts. (Resolution).
__
*- This is, of course, getting ahead of myself, but I always like to keep looking at the map while I'm on the road.
**- I've heard that, in the case of LotR, it had to do with binding machines at the time wouldn't be able to handle the full text. For the Belgariad, it was pure business- Lester del Ray could make more money selling five books instead of three, as Eddings had originally planned.
***- I will not go on a rant about series that have indeterminate lengths.
****- Why is that? Is it the prime numbers?
Thursday, March 10, 2011
The Full Twelve Part Outline Structure
I have mentioned, of course, that I'm a big fan of planning and outlining. I have talked a few times about my Twelve Part Outline structure (and have talked at length about the first three parts), but I've never laid out the whole thing. So I figured it was high time to do that.
Now, there are plenty of story structures out there, and they all follow the same basic form. The form is essentially this:
It's a solid, simple structure. Pretty much every story essentially follows it. But if you're trying to plan out a novel-length work (or, if you're really masochistic, a series-of-novels), it isn't all that helpful. Mostly because the part of the book that most people have the most trouble with-- the MIDDLE-- is more or less represented by "Escalating Conflict". The Twelve-Part Outline Structure addresses that, and gives the story a place to go.
Now, I should say, I designed this structure for genre/action stories. If your story isn't that kind of story, this structure might not fit.
Next week, I'll apply this structure to specific examples.
Now, there are plenty of story structures out there, and they all follow the same basic form. The form is essentially this:
- Inciting Incident
- Escalating Conflict
- Dark Moment
- Climax
- Resolution
It's a solid, simple structure. Pretty much every story essentially follows it. But if you're trying to plan out a novel-length work (or, if you're really masochistic, a series-of-novels), it isn't all that helpful. Mostly because the part of the book that most people have the most trouble with-- the MIDDLE-- is more or less represented by "Escalating Conflict". The Twelve-Part Outline Structure addresses that, and gives the story a place to go.
Now, I should say, I designed this structure for genre/action stories. If your story isn't that kind of story, this structure might not fit.
- Establishment: Show character(s) and initial situation. Here's where you set up not only who your main character(s) is, but what the rules of the road are. What is "normal" for your story? If there is magic, for example, you need to let the reader know here. Especially in a genre story, you need to make it clear what's going on.
- Incitement: Incident or new information spurs protagonist. This may be interwoven with Establishment, or exist on its own, but the important this is that the something changes to throw us out of the Established "normal" and gets the protagonist acting.
- Challenge: Minor antagonists come into play. You can't throw the big guns at your protagonist yet. Either your protagonist isn't aware of the Big Bad yet, or doesn't understand the scope of what is happening, or just plain isn't ready for the big picture yet.
- Altercation: Conflict with minor antagonists. Give your protagonist a hard-won victory, even if it's minor or only symbolic. This lets you show your protagonist as having the competence and drive to deserve being at the center of the story.
- Payback: Minor antagonists report back to major, allowing a strike back. That hard-won victory may have felt good, but it isn't without consequences. Perhaps it means that your Big Bad just re-evaluated your protagonist, and has elevated the threat level from Nuisance to Problem.
- Regrouping: Protagonist reacts to the payback, possibly in an ineffective way; thinks confrontation is over, relaxes. Here is where your protagonist has another victory, but not the victory they think they've had. This is where they make a mistake, be it underestimating the antagonist, or just sloppy pride. That deep character flaw you've woven into them is set up to bite them back.
- Collapse: Protagonist loses stability and safety of base situation. Everything falls apart. Whatever your protagonist thought they could count on crumbles under their feet.
- Retreat: Protagonist must leave base situation to escape threat from main antagonist. Deal them that serious blow. Force their hand.
- Recovery: Protagonist establishes a new situation, enough to be stable and safe. You need to give them a chance to lick their wounds, figure out where they stand, and if they can accept that.
- Investment: Personal reason forces protagonist back into fray with main antagonist—they won’t choose to walk away. This is where you make your heroes. At this stage, a lesser protagonist would cut their losses, admit defeat. Your protagonist can't do that. It's time to see this to the end.
- Confrontation: Goes after main antagonist, partly to reclaim investment. Now you're at the climax.
- Resolution: Defeat of main antagonist, which can create a new base situation or re-establish stability of original one. Hey, look, it has the same name as in the other structure. Don't fix what isn't broke.
Next week, I'll apply this structure to specific examples.
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