fiction | Bertram's Blog

Draggy Dialogue? Reeking Repartee? Why the Chit-Chat Can’t Be Idle

August 24, 2008 — Pat Bertram

Tracy Fabre is guest hosting my blog today. Fabre is the author of Evan’s Castle, available from Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and Stonegarden Publishing. Fabre says:

Dialogue (unless your novel manages to avoid it entirely) is something both difficult and essential to get right. It serves two key purposes in fiction: it furthers the plot, and helps the author build the characters. (It can also entertain, frighten and inform, as characters joke, threaten, and sometimes pontificate, but we’ll keep it simple for this post.)

Here are a few things which must be taken into consideration as you write your dialogue.

It must be believable and natural. It must be plausible that your character would speak, shout, wheedle, cajole, or threaten with the words you choose for him. Are you writing about a twelfth century cleric? Then he’d better not say, “Dude, that habit is, like, so five minutes ago.” Are you writing about a teenaged NYC prostitute? Then she’d better not say, “Fain would I fathom the nature of a bespectacled pigeon, forsooth.”

It must fit the scene, and the words you use to describe how it is uttered.
        “I am so extremely happy,” Lulella intoned.
But intoned implies dull, flat, ponderous–okay, so does her speech–so if you were trying to show she’s actually happy, none of it works.
        Roderick stated, “I love you.” Does that seem right? No. Stated is another word which implies flat, dull, boring; if that’s not how you meant him to sound, you need a new qualifier. I could write a whole book on how said is really the perfect word, much more so than physiological impossibilities such as:
        He smiled, “Hello!”
                No, he didn’t. He said it. He smiled while he was saying it.
        “Baby,” he rushed into the room carrying vermicelli, “you’re here!”
               No, he spoke as he was rushing; there’s a difference.
Don’t be afraid to use said. It becomes invisible, and the speech itself takes precedence, as it should. There are places where other impossibilities such as purred and barked do work, but limit your use of qualifiers such as laughed and smiled because, kiddo, you can smile your dialogue all you want but it’s just going to sound like a buncha mumbling.

Don’t feel you must use any variation of said at all if the speech explains itself.
           “I think I’m going to have to slather you with butter.” He smiled.
           She smiled back. “I think that would be very interesting.”
I think we know what’s going on there… unless of course he’s really about to kill her, in which case I’m sure you’ve written the rest of the scene to show her being brave and clever and escaping unbuttered.

Make it clear who’s speaking, but don’t over-do it in a heavy-dialogue scene.
         “I don’t like gazpacho.”
         “You’ve never had gazpacho.”
        “Yes, I did, in Boise,” Velmarine insisted.
         “I don’t remember that.”
         “You weren’t there. It was a Tuesday. Where’s the butler?”
        “What butler?” Claude looked around, puzzled.
         “The one I hired last Tuesday to clean the gutters.”
        “We don’t have gutters. This is a condo.”
         “Oh, that explains the snooty people in the lobby.” She sipped her tea.
Also, make sure the first pronoun to follow a bit of dialogue refers to the person who spoke. In the above lines, it should be clear that Claude said “What butler?” and Velmarine mentioned the snooty people, without a single said being present. Remember that readers generally take things literally, in order, so keep your curve balls to a minimum.

Say it out loud. Really. If you know your characters well (as you should), then say their dialogue out loud to make sure it sounds right. It’s okay, you can whisper it; no need to alarm the neighbors. But say it.

Cut what you don’t need. Some dialogue isn’t necessary: you don’t need every greeting, every farewell; you need to concentrate on the key elements of plot advancement and character development. You may have written some incredibly profound bit of pontification but if it doesn’t fit the scene or the character and adds nothing to the plot, cut it. You may have written the funniest freakin’ bit of repartee the literary world has ever known, but unless you need it… erm… you don’t need it.

Speaking of cutting, I’ll stop here.

What have your challenges been as you write dialogue?
What do you consider your successes?
Would you be willing to post to the discussion short samples of your dialogue which you either love or hate?

Posted in books, culture, fiction, How to, life, writing. Tags: dialogue, Evan's Castle, fiction, novel, plot, Tracy Fabre, writing, writing: characters. 3 Comments »

On Writing: Muddling Through the Middle

August 21, 2008 — Pat Bertram

Novels generally have a three-part structure: beginnings, middles, and ends.

Beginnings connect the reader to the main character, present the story world, establish tone, introduce the opposition, and compel readers to move on to the middle.

Endings wrap up all the strands of the story, give the outcome of the final conflict, and leave a sense of satisfaction and resonance.

Middles develop the confrontation between the main character and the antagonist, deepen character relationships, keep us caring about the main character, and set up the final conflict.

Middles keep the main character and the antagonist in conflict. If one or the other can simply walk away, there is no reason for the reader (or writer) to muddle through the middle. Duty can be the adhesive keeping them in conflict (a detective needs to solve a case). Moral obligation can be the adhesive (a character exacts revenge or a mother fights to save her child). Physical location can be the adhesive (a blizzard makes it impossible for the characters to leave a place).

Middles have a rhythm of action, reaction, more action, and how these beats are controlled determines the pace of the novel. Lots of action, little reaction gives a breathless pace. Little action, lots of reaction slows the pace.

Middles should have a sense of suspense, a sense of death hanging over the main character (can be physical, psychological, professional, or moral), and a sense of increasing risks and rising stakes.

Here are a few questions to keep in mind as you muddle through the middle of your novel:

What adhesive do you use to keep your characters from being able to walk away?

How do you vary the rhythm of action and reaction to create the pace of your novel?

Does your novel have suspense, some question to be resolved, something that will keep readers paging through the middle?

Do you have a sense of death hanging over your main character?

How do you keep increasing the risks for your character?

How do you keep raising what is at stake for your character?

Posted in books, fiction, life, writing. Tags: action, beginning, character, end, middle, pace, reaction, suspense, three-part structure, varying pace, writing. 1 Comment »

Writing Is an Adventure. Be Bold!

August 17, 2008 — Pat Bertram

All too often, inexperienced writers tiptoe through their novels, letting major events — fistfights, gunplay, murders, betrayals — take place off-page. It’s much easier to let characters emote afterward than for the writer to take the time and trouble to tackle the action scene. I know I have passed on opportunities to create such scenes, thinking the characters’ reactions all-important, but I forgot one thing: readers need to experience the drama.

Sometimes it’s hard to find the confidence to bring such complex scenes to life, to juggle the many elements that comprise an action scene, but the only way to learn is to plunge headfirst into action. Write it fast and fearlessly; let the words fall where they may. You can always clean up the mess in rewrites.

Beth H., a fellow writer, posted an article “Going All the Way” that I bookmarked as a reminder not to play it safe, not to hold back. By jumping into situations that test your characters and your writing ability, you can give your stories drama that stands apart from the common.

Writing is an adventure and, as Beth said, “Give yourself freedom to go all the way.”

Posted in blogging, books, culture, fiction, life, writing. Tags: action scenes, inexperienced writers, readers, write, write boldly. 2 Comments »

Faith and Fiction

June 25, 2008 — Pat Bertram

Suzanne Francis, author of Heart of Hythea, Ketha’s Daughter, and Dawnmaid, has kindly consented to be my guest today. On the subject of Faith and Fiction, Suzanne writes:

We can all think of a series or two where religion plays a major role in the plot-like the Left Behindbooks by LaHaye and Jenkins or the Mitford Series by Jan Karon. Whether or not you agree with their beliefs, these are authors who have placed their own faith squarely at the center of the books they write.

Should we do the same? I can think of three reasons why we might.

–Spirituality is a deeply personal attribute, part of what makes us individuals. No two people, even two who belong to the same faith, believe in exactly the same things. Our faith, even if it is atheism, is a fundamental part of who we are. That is something we can use to differentiate our writing from all other authors, something that will allow us to claim it as our own.

–Most of us with religious beliefs feel that these tenets make us better people-that is why we follow them, after all. Many authors of fiction-like Ayn Rand or Jack Kerouac-have used the voices of their characters to present their own beliefs to the world. If we have an understanding, something that helps us, should we not also share it with others?

–Every author wants their characters to be multi-dimensional, to come to life for the reader. If we do not give our creations a spiritual dimension, then they are lacking one of the most essential qualities of humanity-the one thing that separates us from all other animals. Even if our character never discusses his or her faith or lack thereof, it must still be in the background affecting everything he or she says and does.

But how do we go about placing our beliefs in the context of our fiction without sounding artificial or preachy?

It pays to spend some time thinking about what you actually believe and how it affects your everyday life. That becomes the starting point. Do you have doubts? Have you suffered for your faith? Do you speak of it with others, or is it private?

Once you have a handle on that, then you can decide how much or how little you wish to include. Maybe you will put a single line in the mouth of a minor character. That might be enough. Alternatively, you can give a main character some of your convictions, and let it emerge little by little through their actions. Or perhaps, like C.S. Lewis, you can write a whole series of allegories around the things you believe. (But I think the Chronicles of Narnia is very preachy!)

In Song of the ArkafinaI gave one character, Arkady Svalbarad, a faith very much like Buddhism. I am not a Buddhist, not really, but I find the some of the philosophy very useful in my day-to-day life. Here is an example from Ketha’s Daughter:

—Nodding, he turned to his pack, and retrieved his tin plate and a small knife. He was hungry, and the rabbit smelled good, though it had been a year since he had last eaten any flesh. That was another thing he learned from his teacher in T’Shang — respect for all living creatures. But Dawa had also impressed upon him the importance of kindness to others, and that meant accepting any gift without complaint or reservation. So he ate the rabbit with pleasure and shared what food he had in return.—

Everything about this character is colored by his faith-both his successes and failures are measured against it. It gives him a genuineness I could never create otherwise.

My own belief system I would loosely describe as Paganism, though probably not the kind you are thinking of. I don’t own any robes, or do any rituals or chanting. But I do believe in the immanence of God in all things, and I hold the Earth to be sacred. I gave my convictions to a group of wanderers called the Firaithi. From Ketha again:

—“Still,” insisted Arkady. “It must be very difficult – always traveling like this. Do your young people not grow tired of your rootless existence?”

“Of course, some do,” admitted Huw. “Perhaps two or three each year decide to leave the Kindreds and make their way in the world of the Gruagán. But we raise our young ones to honor Asparitus, so most come back to us after a few years.”

“Asparitus? What is that?”

Huw stared thoughtfully at his sister Eira’s neatly painted caravan. “I don’t know a word in Maraison that means the same thing. Asparitus is our way of life. It means to tread gently on the Yrth, to use as little as we are able, and put back as much as we can.” He frowned. “We have very little, compared to the Gruagán in their fancy houses. They think of us as impoverished tinkers and thieves, when they think of us at all. But truly, Kadya, few of us would give up our place here amongst the Kindreds for all the gold of the Gruagán. Asparitus is all the treasure we need. Do you understand, my brother?”—

That is very, very close to the heart of my own faith, only lightly cloaked in the language of the Firaithi.

How will you clothe your faith in your fiction?

To find out more about Suzanne, read excerpts, or buy her books, check out her fictionwise book page.

Posted in books, fiction, life, writing. Tags: character's beliefs, creating characters, Dawn Maid, faith, fiction, Heart of Hythea, Ketha's Daughter, Suzanne Francis, writing. 2 Comments »

On Writing: How To Use a Character Profile

June 23, 2008 — Pat Bertram

Lately I’ve been coming across many different character-building worksheets, both online and in how-to-write books, but one point most fail to mention is how to use the biographies you create.

Knowing your characters’ families, friends, education, jobs, hobbies, strengths, weaknesses, goals, regrets, fears, desires, needs, might help you define your characters, but the real benefit of character biographies is to help you create the story.

It’s not enough simply to know what your hero believes, for example. If the belief doesn’t add anything important to the development of the story or the development of the hero’s character, it’s hardly worth mentioning. It’s not enough simply to know the hero’s background. If it isn’t important for the reader to know, if nothing is gained by its inclusion, if nothing is lost by its omission, then that, too, is barely worth mentioning.

On the other hand, if your story goes stale halfway through the book, you can mine both the hero’s beliefs and background for additional conflicts.

More than that, though, a well-constructed character biography can tell you what your story is and where it is going.

When you know your hero’s main goal, you will find the beginning of a plot line. When you know what will make the goal’s attainment the most difficult for the hero, you will find the central obstacle in the story. And when you know your hero’s greatest strength, you can figure out how your hero will eventually overcome the obstacle.

By exploiting your character’s greatest fear, you will be able to draw the most depth from your character because, of course, your hero must confront this fear or else you miss the point of your own story.

Through knowing your character’s weaknesses, regrets, needs, desires, vulnerabilities, you will find inner conflicts, subtexts, subplots, and all the bits of drama that pull readers into your world.

As your story progresses, you may find in your hero’s biography untapped wells of strength, previously undisclosed facts that might alter the situation, even characters from the hero’s past who might take unexpected and relevant action.

Most of all, a biography can help keep you focused on your character’s goals. It can help you avoid annoying little inconsistencies such as hazel eyes on page ten and blue or brown on page one hundred and ten. It can help you create a character arc because you will know which traits are static (an intelligent person doesn’t suddenly become stupid for no reason), and you will know which traits can show the character’s growth (perhaps a fear of commitment that becomes a willingness to commit).

But most of all, the biography tells you the story because character is so entwined with plot that it’s impossible to create one without the other.

Click here for a character questionaire to help you create a profile for your character.

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Posted in fiction, How to, life, writing. Tags: character, character arc, character's fear, character-building, goals, hero, plot, story, strenghts, weaknesses, writing. 1 Comment »

The Novel Only You Can Write

June 16, 2008 — Pat Bertram

It seems there are only four ways to get a traditional publisher to notice a new writer: be a celebrity, have a mentor in the publishing industry, be lucky enough so that your manuscript is on the right desk at the right time, or write a novel so extraordinary that it demands publication. Since I am not a celebrity, mentored, or lucky, the only option left for me is to write an extraordinary novel. How do I do that? Perhaps by writing a novel only I can write.

Obviously, we all come to writing from a certain point of view, from a certain set of experiences. To that extent, all writers write the novel only they can write, but still, most books on the market seem interchangeable. Anyone could have written them. So I am trying to figure out what only I can write.

For example, if I take a picture of a highway, it wouldn’t necessarily show any of my unique perspective. Only I would know the smell of road kill skunk that almost suffocated me while I was taking the picture. Only I would know of the traffic barreling toward me from behind and the sound of the jake brakes from the semi that almost ran me down. Only I would know that I stood there for ten minutes waiting for a traffic-less shot. But still, anyone standing in that same spot would have experienced the same thing. So what would make the photograph uniquely me? Heart and spirit? Memories and emotions evoked by the highway?

All I know is that to write something that only you or I can write, whether novel or blog, we have to know who we are, what makes us the same as everyone else, and what makes us different. The sameness creates empathy, the difference takes the writing out of the ordinary and into a class of its own.

Posted in blogging, fiction, life, writing. Tags: empathy, novel, perspective, writing. 1 Comment »

Creating a Character — Part VI

June 13, 2008 — Pat Bertram

The second half of a book is easy for me to write — I know the characters, their backstories and motivations — but I have trouble with the front part. My poor hero, Chip, has been running from a volcano for the past month while I’ve been trying to figure out who he is, what I need him to be, and what he needs to become.

According to Robert McKee in Story, “The most fascinating characters have a conscious desire and a contradictory unconscious desire. What he believes he wants is the antithesis of what he actually but unwittingly wants. (Although the protagonist is unaware of their subconscious need, the audience senses it, perceiving in them an inner contradiction.)”

After the volcano incident, Chip is going to meet an archetypal crone who was supposed to get him to thinking that now he wants a family (this after I’ve killed off almost everyone in the world and despite his need to be free) but it’s too soon in the book for him to want that. It would change the way he interacts with his mate when he finally meets her, which means it has to be a subconscious desire the old woman invokes in him, which changes my perception of the story, which means my WIP comes to a crashing halt while I rethink Chip’s wants and needs. And there he is, running from the volcano, waiting for me to figure him out so he can move on to the next disaster.

If a character wants something he himself doesn’t know he wants, it brings out different facets of personality than if he does know what he truly wants. The secret is to give character hints for the reader to pick up on without the author (or an authoritative character) explaining it. Much of reading is subconscious. We notice things without realizing we are noticing them.

Robert McKee also wrote: “The revelation of true character in contradiction to characterization (the sum of all observable qualities) is fundamental to all fine storytelling. What seems is not what is. People are not what they appear to be. A hidden nature waits concealed behind the facade of traits.”

If Chip doesn’t know what he truly wants until he gets it, it also will add a different dimension to the theme, which is freedom vs. safety. He first chooses freedom, next he chooses incarceration and saftey, then he chooses the excitement and danger of freedom over the boredom of safety, finally he chooses responsibility, a different facet of freedom.

By giving Chip an inner character in contradiction to his outer one, he should become a richer character which in turn will allow the story to explore all the facets of the theme rather than the rather simplistic one of freedom vs. safety.

Now all I have to do is get the poor guy away from that volcano or else there will be no story.

Creating a Character — Part I

Creating a Character — Part II

Creating a Character — Part III

Creating a Character — Part IV

Creating a Character — Part V

Posted in books, fiction, life, writing. Tags: character, characterization, creating a character, Robert McKee, story, theme, true character. Leave a Comment »

On Writing: The Name of the Game is “Hurt the Hero.”

June 2, 2008 — Pat Bertram

I like my characters and don’t enjoy hurting them so my novels tend to focus on unraveling the mystery of the situation, because one thing I do understand is that at the heart of all books is a discovery. In a mystery, the discovery is the killer. In a romance, the discovery is love. In a character driven novel, the discovery is the nature of the character himself.

For the first time, though, I understand why the hero needs to be hurt. If the hero doesn’t hurt, why should we care? And if he doesn’t hurt, how would we ever discover his emotional core, what it is that he really cares about? When we discover what the character cares about, we care about him, and want to read to see how he reacts to the hurt and to find out what he is going to do to make it stop.

True character is revealed in the choices a person makes under pressure or when he is hurting or both. The greater the pressure, the deeper the revelation will be and the truer the choice to the character’s essential nature. Pressure is necessary. Choices made when nothing is at risk mean little.

In Worlds of Wonder: How to Write Science Fiction and Fantasy, David Gerrold wrote: “You need to ask yourself these questions in every situation. Asking these questions brings each scene to life: Why is the moment important? Where is the pain? Why does it hurt? And most important — what will make it worse?”

In life, experiences often become meaningful with reflection and time. In retrospect, a horrendous experience takes on an aura of excitement or even happiness because we remember being fully alive. In art, experiences are meaningful now, at the moment they are happening on the screen or in the novel. We can see instantly that the character is hurting, but we can also feel the excitement of the moment, the adrenaline rush. It all happens at once, the reflection and the experience, which explains why movies and books sometimes seem more real than life itself. Without the character hurting, however, the experience becomes muted, less real.

So: hurt the hero. I guess I’ll just have to learn to like it. Or at least learn how to do it well.

Posted in books, culture, fiction, life, writing. Tags: David Gerrold, discovery, emotional core of character, experiences, hero, mystery, Worlds of Wonder: How to Write Science Fiction and Fant, writing, writing: characters. 2 Comments »

Writing Sex Scenes

May 23, 2008 — Pat Bertram

In its essence, a sex scene in a novel is no different from any other scene, and the key to writing it is to figure out its objective. If you’re just putting it in there because you think it’s time for some titillation, it will not have the resonance of a motivated scene. (Though in some novels, category romance especially, titillation alone is an acceptable objective.)

There are many other objectives for a sex scene besides titillation: to bring the couple closer together; to show that they want each other even though they can’t tolerate each other; to bring them comfort; to show the maturation of one character (perhaps he couldn’t commit, and now he can); to show the intensity of the relationship; to slow the pace of the book or speed it up; to bring a bit of humor or playfulness to a somber work.

Once you know the objective, you can write a fitting action/reaction sequence. If comfort is the objective, you can show them together at the beginning, close the door during the action, and show them cuddling afterward. If tenderness is the objective, you can show a bit of the action in addition to the before and after. And of course, if their desperation for each other is the objective, you will need to leave the door open during the scene. As with all resonating scenes, when it is over there must be some reaction, some change to the character or the direction of the story. And the objective dictates that reaction. If the scene was about bringing comfort to the characters, we need to know whether they found comfort or failed to find it, and we need to know the characters’ emotional response to the success or failure of that objective. This reaction, in turn will help set up the next scene.

Scenes also help show who the characters are, and where better to do this than when they are at their most vulnerable. The sex scene I wrote that I like best is one where the woman calls out her partner’s name, and he exults to himself, “I’ve still got it!” That defined them and their relationship.

The problem I have with sex scenes is that, in the end, there are only so many different ways of writing them and after a while they begin to seem ho-hum. Finding the objective helps make the scene unique, as does sense description not related to the act. Can they smell the garbage outside the motel window? Is the traffic only a faint hum from her penthouse? How does the office desk feel beneath her back? Each of these bits gives the scene a depth it might not otherwise have.

I wasn’t sure if I was going to have a sex scene in my current work. After devolving (or evolving depending on your point of view) from graphic sex in my first novel to none at all in my fourth, I thought I’d run the gamut. But then I realized I have never done a humorous sex scene, so that’s what I’m going to aim for. Not a bad objective.

Posted in books, fiction, life, writing. Tags: action/reaction, character, scene objectives, scenes, sex scenes, using senses, writing. 6 Comments »

Your Mother-in-Law, the Sociopath

May 14, 2008 — Pat Bertram

Anyone who writes crime fiction, especially novels about a serial killer, is familiar with the sociopathic personality. But not all sociopaths are killers. Some psychologists estimate that there are thirty thousand psychopaths who are not serial killers for every one who is. So who are these non-killing psychopaths? Your neighbor, perhaps, or your mother-in-law. Maybe even the psychologists who came up with the sociopathic profile. Possibly even you.

Abused children who were not born with a sociopathic personality usually grow up to lead normal lives. Sociopaths who were not abused usually grow up to lead normal lives or lives that mimic normalcy. Sociopaths sometimes become killers because of childhood abuse, and sometimes they become killers simply because they want to. (The killer in the Dutch version of The Vanishing was a classic sociopath who killed to see what it would feel like.)

Even if you don’t write crime fiction, familiarity with the sociopathic personality can help you create dynamic characters and even interesting dialogue. For example, sociopaths frequently use contradictory and illogical statements such as “I never touched her, and anyway, she wanted it.”

A sociopath has difficulty connecting to others, though people often like them. They are charming, glib, witty, and use captivating body language. Because of their impulsiveness, need for excitement, poor behavior controls, and lack of responsibility, they can be fun companions, but because they lack empathy, conscience, and remorse, they can never truly connect with anyone.

Other characteristics of the sociopath are shallow emotions, egocentricity, lying for no reason, no need to conform to societal standards, the skill to detect and exploit the weaknesses of others. They are also well satisfied with themselves, never looking back with regret or forward with concern.

One characteristic that keeps a sociopath from being a good fiction hero is that in fiction heroes need to change during the course of the novel, and sociopaths have solid personalities that are extremely resistant to outside influences. But, being the manipulative creatures that they are, they can make us believe they have changed.

Sounds to me like an interesting character. With or without the killing.

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