What I Learned About Writing From

The Sookie Stackhouse Mysteries by Charlaine Harris and True Blood, based on the books

1)      Give your protagonist a problem

Sookie is telepathic.  She hears everyone’s thoughts.  Almost all the time.  Which makes dating difficult since she knows exactly what her date is thinking about her, as well as all of his expectations.  Her gift has caused her to be labeled a freak in her small home town of Bon Temps, Louisiana. 

Groovy problem, right?  And it’s not her only one.  She needs her waitress job at the bar in order to help make ends meet at home, where she lives with her grandmother.  Her parents died in a car accident when she was little.  And her older brother’s a bit of a screw-up.

I’ve said it before, but my critique group always tells me that I’m too nice to my characters.  Well, Charlaine Harris has no problem beating up—sometimes quite literally—on her characters.  Especially Sookie.

2)      The bad guys should be dangerous

In the world of this series, vampires have recently come “out of the coffin.”  The reason?  A synthetic blood substitute, Tru Blood, developed by the Japanese means they no longer need to feed on humans. 

The problem is that Tru Blood isn’t exactly like human blood, so a lot of vampires aren’t about to make the switch.  And even if they are off the real thing, they are still incredibly strong and fast.  Some can fly.

Even when the bad guy isn’t a vampire, he (or she) is still a huge threatening presence.  Bon Temps has any number of really bad characters just waiting to do harm to our protagonist.  In addition to the vamps, there are werewolves, weretigers, werepanthers (you get the idea), evil fairies, ancient goddesses, religious fanatics, witches and just plain nasty human beings.

Wimpy bad guys don’t cut it, but I don’t want to make my antagonists look cartoonishly bad.  I don’t want a mustache-twirling Snidely Whiplash.  So how to find that happy medium between not-bad-at-all and over-the-top-evil? 

I once read that the perfect antagonist is the mirror opposite of your protagonist.  Think Harry Potter and Voldemort, Darth Vader and Luke Skywalker, Krystle and Alexis Carrington.

3)      Too many characters CAN be a problem.

I tend to like a fairly large cast of characters.  Maybe it’s because I’m from a large family.  Or it could be from reading a lot of Dickens as a kid.  Whatever the reason, I don’t get confused by a lot of characters in a book.

However…along about book six or seven in the series, Harris had populated Bon Temps and the surrounding area with more than a dozen named vampires, half a dozen or more important werewolves, at least three fairies, a handful of witches, a shapeshifter, a few weretigers, a whole town full of werepanthers, and about twenty humans. 

Even that wouldn’t have been too bad, except that she tried to fit everyone in for at least a mention.  The main storyline became diluted because of this. 

Early in the next book, Harris started eliminating some of the characters, not all of them violently.  It made for a tighter story.

I’m still working on making sure that all the characters in my books have good reasons for being there.   

4)      First person narrative has pros and cons

By sticking with Sookie, we get to know her.  She’s our window into Bon Temps.  We tend to feel about the other characters as she does.  She becomes us, or we become her. 

The flip side is that we can’t experience anything without Sookie.  The latest book, Dead in the Family, suffers because of this.  Vampire Eric is visited by his maker and a new “brother.”  A lot of really interesting stuff happens between the trio—off stage.  We learn about it just as Sookie does, while the story it told to her.  It loses a lot of the impact that actually being there would have given us.

I’ve used both first and third person narrative.  I’m not always clear why I’ve picked one over the other.  But I think it’s time to take a really good look at the story I want to tell before I make that decision.

5)      You need to let go when you sell the movie/television rights

About midway through each season of True Blood, the television series based on the Sookie Stackhouse books, my friend Jenny asks me what’s going to happen.  Even though I’ve read all the books, I have no idea at this point.  The first season stayed somewhat true to the main plot of Dead Until Dark, but there were lots of people and situations in the television version that weren’t in the book.  And the last episode veered in a very surprising way from the book.

Charlaine Harris is always positive about the series in the interviews I’ve read.  She acknowledges that television is a different medium from books and, therefore, requires a different take on storytelling.  Good for her.

I’ve also read interviews with authors who blast any adaptation of their work.  It tends to leave a bad taste in the mouth of this reader.  Yes, the story is your baby.  Yes, you came up with the idea in the first place.  Yes, the studio/director/producer/network must have liked what you wrote if they wanted to adapt it.  However, you sold the rights.  Period.

The lesson here?  Should I be lucky enough to pen something that someone wants to adapt, I had better consider how much it would bother me to have my baby undergo extensive cosmetic surgery.  Would the money being offered be enough for me to keep my mouth shut about any changes?  Could I smile and nod about the movie/television show/play while thinking about my bank account?

Could you?

Reading Cozies

DB handed out cozies at the CWC meeting on Saturday.  I've read them all my life for a light change of pace.  Jenny did her own study of them a few months ago.  Mary seemed excited about reading one, or two even.  But I don't think Ali or Shane have ever read one.

Ali's already posted about her first impressions of the beginning of the book DB gave her.  It's not looking too promising.

It'll be interesting to see what everyone has to say next month.

Have you ever read a cozy mystery?  Did/do you like them?  What about reading other genres that aren't your normal go-to picks?  Were there any that pleasantly surprised you?  Or annoyed you?

And Another Thing I Learned About Writing

from The Da Vinci Code.

6)      People love conspiracy theories

From the assassination of a JFK to Roswell to 9/11 to Free Mason’s to whatever, there are always those who will question the “official version” of major events.  Sometimes these people are right and they expose a lie—think Watergate.  Sometimes they’re just crackpots. Sometimes we’ll never know  one way or the other.

Dan Brown uses questions that were already being asked by others—which led to a copyright lawsuit or two.  He uses them, though, in a novel.  This gives him the ability to say, “It’s just fiction.” 

Is the Catholic Church covering up the truth about Jesus Christ?  And what is that truth?   Was he simply a profit who caught the imagination of the masses?   Was he married and a father?  Is there an unbroken line of descendants who are aware of their heritage, but who keep it secret to keep from bringing down Christianity as we know it?  Is there a Priory of Sion, dedicated to protecting the secret of Christ’s bloodline? 

None of those things need to be true.  Just posing the questions raises controversy.  And controversy begets debate, or the modern day equivalent of debate—shouting at the top of one’s lungs.  Once that starts, interest is piqued and an increase in sales can follow.

I’m not proposing that everyone should make use of conspiracy theories in their books.  Nor that all books need to spark controversy.  But there should be something about them of interest to readers—even a niche market.  There should be something about the book that people love.

When I start writing, I don’t worry about who my market is.  That would paralyze me.   But as it’s nearing the final edits (maybe Draft 4 or 5), I will begin to think about who might want to read this particular book. 

What about your book will people love?  Is it funny?  Heart-warming?  Scary?  Romantic?  Thrilling?  Some combination? 

When The Universe Conspires Against You

As you may know, CWC has not been able to meet since the beginning of December.  An unexpected death and various snow storms have caused delays that turned into outright cancellations.  We finally agreed on this Saturday, with a forecast for highs in the mid-50s and sunny skies.  And then one of our group got news of another friend's death.  It just seems like the Universe is trying to tell us something. 

Ali received a much more positive message the other day.  I've been getting some mixed signals myself.

This time we're sending a message back to the Universe:  We're meeting.  One of our number will be attending a funeral, and we'll have to figure out times to exchange submissions, critiques, etc. with her.  And while our thoughts with be with Mary, her family and their friends, we're going to go ahead and do this thing.

Maybe the Universe is just nudging us (and with something that big, a nudge can feel like an earthquake) to see if we're really serious about this CWC thing.  Because maybe if we're not, then we might not be serious about the writer thing.  What the Universe needs to know, however, is just how bloody serious we are.  So we're going to prove it.

Ever get the feeling that the Universe/events/gods/life was trying to tell you something?  What did you do with the message?

What I Learned About Writing From

The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown

I know that it’s almost required for writers to disparage Dan Brown.  Just some of the complaints about his writing are awkward sentence structure, telling instead of showing, playing fast and loose with history, physics, etc.  Yeah, maybe.  But we all know that many well-respected authors break the rules.  So what is it that bugs so many of us so much about Dan Brown?

Could it be his overwhelming success?  Probably not for everyone but, if we’re honest, for a lot of us.  Here we are slogging along, playing by all the rules and this guy sells a gazillion flawed books.

But a wise former agent, Nathan Bransford, said it best in one of his blog posts.  Writers who don’t take the opportunity to learn from financially successful books—even those they dislike—are doing themselves a disservice.  What follows is what I’ve learned about writing from The Da Vinci Code.

1)       Find a cool occupation for your protagonist

Robert Landon is a symbologist.  That was a new one on me.  But intriguing.  And an occupation I wish I’d known about before I registered for college.  To make a living out of studying and interpreting symbols?  How cool would that be?

Sometimes it seems that writers only find a handful of occupations worth writing about.  Medical and legal professionals are everywhere (try watching television for one evening without running into one, the other or both).  Teachers show up a lot, as do cops and private investigators (who could fall into the Legal category).  Then there are the stories about people in the entertainment industry—agents, artists, actors, writers etc.  Lots of stories about writers. 

While Langdon turns out to be employed as a college professor (teacher) and acts as a hyper-educated detective, it is the way he interprets symbols, both common and arcane, that propels the story forward.

I will be more likely to think twice before going with one of the overused professions for my protagonists in the future.  Does she have to be a medical doctor or could she be sociologist or a telemarketer? 

2)      Make the protagonist’s goal interesting

What could be more interesting than a search for the Holy Grail?  Langdon has to figure out not only where the Grail is hidden, but what exactly it is.  Is it a cup?  Was it used by Christ at the last supper or did it collect his blood at the crucifixion, or both?  Is it a person?  Could it be a descendant of Christ?  If it is, what would that mean for Christianity? 

One of my issues with my writing has been creating a well-defined tangible goal for my protagonist.  I won’t have anyone searching for the Holy Grail, but she needs to be after something that is every bit as important, if only to her.

3)      Keep the action moving forward

One of the reasons this book was on the best seller lists for so long is that it’s a page turner.  The reader wants to know what happens next.  Even when Landon and Sophie stop to analyze the clues or get information from another character, there is action in the background.  We know that Bezu Fache and Silas are hot on their heels.  Will our heroes figure it out in time?  Or will the bad guys catch up?  And when they do catch up, how will Langdon get away? 

Brown makes the figuring out interesting too.  This is where a lot of the “telling” comes in as Langdon explains what the symbols mean and why he’s interpreting them in the way he is.  But it’s interesting telling.  Do we really need a flashback to the 13^th Century so he can show us?  Nah. 

Isn’t this what every writer aspires to?  We all want readers to be unable to put our books down, to have to read “just one more chapter” to find out what happens next. 

Even though I don’t write thrillers, I am trying to find ways to keep the reader wanting to see what’s next.  How do I up the stakes, heighten the tension, increase the conflict?

4)       Use interesting settings

The action starts in Paris.  Not just Paris, but the Louvre.   Langdon travels through France, London and Scotland.  We see the Louvre, Westminster Abbey and Roslyn Chapel in detail through Langdon’s eyes—a symbologist’s eyes. 

Would moving my characters around heighten the tension?  Would adding a famous landmark bring something different to the story?  I’m sure this idea wouldn’t work for every story, but it’s worth considering.  Remember, a rainy little town named Forks caught a lot of readers’ attentions without any landmarks at all.

5)       Make the antagonist a worthy opponent to the protagonist

“The Teacher” is every bit as smart as Langdon.  He’s devious, and he’s willing to kill to get what he wants.  That final trait is one that Langdon doesn’t appear to share.  It may make him a more likable good guy, but it puts him at a decided disadvantage.

The henchmen working for/with The Teacher are well drawn, too.  Especially Silas.   He’s an albino monk, strong physically.  He has absolute faith in God and The Teacher.  He also practices corporeal mortification or self-inflicted punishment.  So many things going on with Silas that he almost takes over the story.

I tend to be too nice to my protagonists.  And part of that is not making the antagonist enough of a threat.  By keeping antagonists like The Teacher in mind, I should be able to come up a worthy bad guy.

Whatever your opinion of The Da Vinci Code or Dan Brown, you can’t deny that a lot of people loved the book—and the movie that followed.  It’s hard to argue that all of the 80 million buyers are just stupid.  I know plenty of intelligent folks who enjoyed the book—heck, I couldn’t put the thing down even with the flaws I saw in it. 

The next time you encounter a best-seller that you feel “sucks,” keep reading.  And try to identify what made so many people enjoy it.  You just might be doing yourself a favor.

And Another Thing I Learned About Writing From

The Pikes Peak Writers Conference

6)  Celebrate Any Request for "Pages"

But don't hang all your hopes on an offer from them.

So you get your manuscript ready, really ready. It’s revised and polished to a high gloss. You get a pitch session with Dream Agent. You practice your pitch for weeks. You sit down with said agent and pitch your little heart out. Then you sit back and wait.


And she says it sounds interesting. Asks a few questions. Then she hands you her card and asks you to send the first three chapters.

You float out of the pitch room, skip down the hall, rush to the bar to tell all your friends the good news. They help you celebrate and plan how you’ll spend your six-figure advance.

When you get home, you give your chapters another going over—or three. And you send them off to Dream Agent. You polish the rest of the manuscript again in anticipation of a request for a full and eventual offer of representation.

The email—or letter—arrives. Heart racing, you open it and read “Thank you for letting us read your work. However, Book Title isn’t a fit for us at this time.”  Despair.  What did you do wrong?

Probably nothing.  Some agents have a hard time saying "no" to a writer who--all eager-like--is sitting across a small table from them.  The pitch may have been good but, possibly, not completely representative of the actual manuscript.  Or the agent got back to the office and realized she had offered representation to another author with a similar story. 

So follow the steps above.  Polish the chapters to a gleam and send them off.  Then polish the rest of the manuscript to the same high gloss.  Then query other agents who represent what you write.  And start on that next book.  It'll keep you occupied while you wait for Dream Agent's reply, and you won't be hanging all your hopes on one response.

Registration is open for this year's conference.  We all know the state of the economy.  But if you can possibly afford it, go.  Attend the workshops, talk to other writers.  Try to sit at a table hosted by an agent, editor or author you admire.  And if your manuscript is ready, sign up for a pitch session.  Oh, and take the pitch practice workshop so you're ready. 

Most important of all--have fun.

What I Learned About Writing From

Pikes Peak Writers Conference

If you’re not familiar with the Pikes Peak Writers Conference (PPWC), let me give you the broad strokes. Pikes Peak Writers Conference has been held at the end of April in Colorado Springs, Colorado, since 1993. It was named one of the top ten writers conferences in the United States by Writers Digest Magazine. The conference is run by Pikes Peak Writers, a group of dedicated volunteers.


When I first attend, at the tenth anniversary conference, it consisted of two days of workshops and pitch appointments with either an agent or an editor. Friday afternoon, one could walk into a “read and critique” session and listen to a writer read a few pages and receive immediate feedback from an agent, editor or published author.

The conference has expanded to include workshops on Friday as well. And attendees may sign up for Thursday intensive workshops.

Following is a list of things I learned by attending several PPWCs over the years.


1) There are lots of other people out there like you.

I wrote a lot when I was in junior high and high school. Then “real life” interrupted that. I had gotten back into writing a couple years before my first PPWC. I joined a local writing group just a few months before the conference. So, I knew there were at least a dozen people in Colorado Springs who wrote.

Then I walked into the Marriott Hotel on the April Friday afternoon. There were writers everywhere—checking in, wandering the halls (some looking as dazed as I felt), sitting at the bar, and bravely reading their writing in front of an agent and a room full of people. Suddenly I became part of a much larger subculture. If I was crazy to be doing this, at least there were others as crazy as, if not more so, than I.


2) Writers can be incredibly generous with each other

Many of the faculty are authors—well-known and not so much—who shared their experiences and insights. They took the time to put together hour-long presentations and handouts to help other writers avoid some of the pitfalls the presenter had encountered.

The faculty were not the only generous authors. There were the strangers who invited me to sit with them at meals. The people who let me join in their conversations in the lobby between sessions and after the days events ended.

I left each night—I didn’t stay at the hotel that first year—feeling energized and knowing that I just might be able to do this thing.


3) No matter how much you know, there’s more to learn.

I love doing research. When I decided it was time to start writing again—seriously, I subscribed to Writers Digest and invested in a bunch of writing books. I read about plot, characterization, conflict, motivation, themes, dialogue. You name it, I had a book about it.

Even then, I felt there was probably a lot to learn from the workshops at my first PPWC. Sure enough, I absorbed a lot that weekend. There was a workshop on writing good query letters. Another on writing screenplays based on a two-hour movie broken into ten minute blocks.

By my third and fourth conferences, I was feeling pretty dang knowledgeable about the writing life. After all, I had a couple different first drafts under my belt. Even more books and magazines read. What else could there be to learn?

Well, how about developing a “bible” to manage a series. This is a notebook that contains information the author needs to keep track of. A map of the location, descriptions of characters, major events. Or how about the way real S.W.A.T. teams or canine units operate?

Every PPWC has taught me something new. They’ve also reminded me of things I might have once known, but forgot.


4) Be prepared.

I first learned that when I joined the Brownies in first grade. Who knew that it would help me at a writers conference mumble, mumble years later?

It took a year or two before I signed up for a Read and Critique session. A room full of strangers would be listening. A room full of strangers plus an agent. A big name agent. A big name agent from a prestigious agency.

Started a month or so before the conference, I polished and re-polished what I would be reading. I read aloud and timed myself. Then friends from my critique group helped by listening and offering advice. I was told accentuate certain phrases. Raise my voice here, lower it there. And remember to breathe.

When I started to read at PPWC, my hands shook the pages and my face went hot. But I was ready. My copy of the pages were in large print and marked up. “Hit this.” “Softer here.”

At the end of the reading I braced for the horrible feedback. But it didn’t come. She liked me. She really, really like me. I mean, she liked my writing.  And that felt great.  Even though she did not ask me to send her pages.  I wouldn't have been ready for that anyway.


5) When they say finished work, listen.

Agent/Editor pitch sessions are limited. Writers are cautioned to only sign up for a pitch session when they have a finished work. “Finished” does not mean a first draft. It certainly doesn’t mean a kinda cool idea for a book. It doesn’t even mean a good second draft.

A finished work is a manuscript that has been written and rewritten, probably several times. Eyes other than the writer’s have read it and offered feedback. Eyes that belong to people who are writers themselves. Or at least people who truly know about writing.

I decided that I’d pitch a book that was still mostly in the idea stage at my second PPWC. I figured it would be good practice for when it was finished because, of course, I didn’t think anyone would say they wanted to see it.

But he did ask for the first 100 pages. I didn’t have 30 pages. Did I rush home and knock out the rest of the book, polish it up and send the requested pages? No. Instead I froze up. I didn’t write much of anything for months.

Not everyone will have that reaction. But even if you run home and finish the manuscript, it will not be your best work. And if you don’t submit your best work, you won’t get very far. That means you’ll have wasted the agent’s time and, possibly, prevented a writer who was ready from getting one of the precious time slots.


Take a look at the PPWC brochure for 2011.  You can find it here at http://www.pikespeakwriters.com/html/brochure.html  It could just be the boost your writing needs.