(Secrets We Keep From Each Other.)

Distinct from moral control, one of the most beautiful aspects of books is their ability to achieve a kind of mind-control by transcending the boundaries of consciousness, by taking over through subsumption. A book can only achieve this if the writer has written with complete and unconscious faith in the reality of his characters: Only then can a character stand for himself, only then can he stay vivid and strong (even if the character himself is weak-hearted and spineless) as readers address him with their queries, or project onto him their visions and theories. 

When writing fiction, the desire to too directly guide a reader has never occurred to me. Ava, the narrator of my debut novel What You Make of Me, invites projection; she invites a bit of theorizing, despite her defiance and desire for control. A reader might wonder at her aims, at her self-awareness, at the things she says and her reasons for saying them, at her art (she is a painter). But while writing, I felt I knew Ava and understood her. She was multidimensional to me. My goal (‘goal’ is not quite the right word… but my ‘charge’ sounds absurd) was to create a character who is equal parts definitive, present, evasive, inward, self-contradictory. 

Confronting this challenge became my favorite part of writing the novel. I was constantly aware of Ava’s shifting levels of self-awareness. I wanted a few aspects of her psyche to bubble up, cross the threshold of consciousness, and make their way into clear, explicit writing. I needed other aspects of her psyche to hover just below that threshold of consciousness, to be underthoughts that haunt but do not penetrate the narrative.

At times Ava has an idea of what is hovering just below. At times she does not. Then—when she thinks she does know—at times she is right, at times she is mistaken; further, at times she knows she is mistaken about herself, and at times she does not know she is mistaken (but the reader, perhaps, knows she is mistaken). This is all to say: Ava is a human being, with oblique paths of access into herself, some more right and revelatory than others, some errant (but still, somehow, psychologically productive). 

AND WHY SHOULDN’T THAT BE TRUE?? AFTER ALL…in a novel, it is a characters’ ultimate unknowability—their ability to evade our capture—that endows them with real human spirit, for the simple reason that in the real world, real human beings possess an inwardness that is and should be inaccessible to us. We don’t know if Flaubert’s Madame Bovary is frigid and remote despite or because of her romanticism (or neither). In Lolita we can’t quite gauge Humbert Humbert’s interpretation of his primordial wound (that first love), or its impact on his psyche. We don’t know for sure if Dostoyevsky’s monkish Alyosha is noble and circumspect, or if he is rather weak, naive—or if he is each of these things (he is!). 

Click to continue.

As Zadie smith writes in “Fascinated to presume: In Defense of Fiction”: “Fiction suspects that there is far more to people than what they choose to make manifest … Fiction is suspicious of any theory of the self that appears to be largely founded on what can be seen with the human eye (…) Fiction—at least the kind that is any good—is full of doubt, self-doubt above all. It has grave doubts about the nature of the self.” 

It is this doubt—the doubt we feel even when looking into the eyes of a loved one and feeling not just closeness but in fact, and paradoxically, an insuperable distance—that feels most human, that drives and feeds our will to know and understand. In novels, we might come to love characters or despise them; we might argue in defense of them, or protest their actions; we might put our book down and feel a narrator’s presence as a shadow self throughout the day, or we might put a book down as if it is the blade that will slice through us next we return. 

A text, I believe, is at its deepest when the reader does about as much ushering in of her own as possible. It’s not that writers trust their readers to do this (or trust their readers to hold the ‘right’ impression of their characters), it’s that readers always and must do this—they must use their minds to co-engineer a character. It is an ineluctable part of the reading process (see Barthes, etc). The most a writer can (must) do is put human spirit onto the page in all its lucidity and difficulty. Thus my decision not to ‘explain’ on Ava’s behalf is not an intentional act of evasion, it’s an unconscious process of trying to generate reality. 

Of course, because I respect her life and humor, and because I have faith in Ava, it would make me itch to see readers come to her with what I take to be misunderstanding. But that’s the way it goes. There’s nothing she or I can do. The reader must take over, accrue his own impressions of Ava, and project his own reasons, and supply his own logic. 

This fact, I believe, wouldn’t bother her. I hope readers will see her as the kind of person who is both radically open—she would change her clothes with the door open in a dressing room or easily talk constipation—while at the same time rigorous in protecting a deeper privacy, a more profound and complete solitude, her inwardness, which no misunderstanding could touch.

Check out Sophie Madeline Dess’ What You Make of Me here:

Bookshop | Amazon

(WD uses affiliate links)

The post On the Unknowability of Our Characters appeared first on Writer's Digest.

An ensemble cast consists of a dynamic group of characters who share the spotlight and contribute to the story from their unique perspectives. Unlike traditional stories centered around a single protagonist, an ensemble cast opens up a world of possibilities by exploring diverse backgrounds, perspectives, and interconnected storylines. This approach enriches the storytelling experience, allowing for increased diversity, richer characterization, and the exploration of multiple interconnected storylines.

Now, let’s delve into the highs and lows of writing an ensemble cast.

Developing Unique and Memorable Characters

One of the major advantages of an ensemble cast is the ability to introduce a wide range of diverse characters. In the sci-fi/fantasy world of Star Bringer, we had the opportunity to take diversity to a new level. Our crew of misfits includes a princess, a prisoner, a con artist, a warrior, a priestess, a mercenary, and a charismatic leader, all confined together in a spaceship hurtling through space. They come from different planets, social backgrounds, and possess distinct beliefs and life experiences.

This diverse representation allows us to challenge stereotypes, break down barriers, and promote inclusivity. Readers are exposed to characters who may share their own experiences or who open their eyes to different ways of life. Our hope is that this broadens readers’ horizons, fosters empathy, and promotes a deeper understanding of the world.

Furthermore, a diverse ensemble cast provides a platform for exploring social issues and amplifying marginalized voices. By incorporating characters from various walks of life, we can tackle important topics such as race, gender, and sexuality.

Embracing the Power of Perspective

One of the strengths of using an ensemble cast is the ability to present the story through multiple perspectives. In Star Bringer, we employ a number of different first-person, present-tense points of view. It was crucial to ensure that each character had their own distinct voice and character arc. We strived to bring the characters into conflict with each other over their goals, values, motivations, and worldviews.

Fortunately, it wasn’t too challenging, as our characters are strong individuals with plenty to say for themselves. In fact, they all had a tendency to vie for the spotlight, so we made sure each of them received their fair share of screen time. This allowed readers to connect with each character and understand their unique motivations. We constantly asked ourselves, “Whose scene is this? Who has the most at stake here?”

Managing Reader Engagement

Keeping audiences invested in every character with an ensemble cast, readers have the opportunity to connect with multiple characters on different levels. Each character offers a distinct set of traits, motivations, and vulnerabilities, providing readers with someone to resonate with or root for. However, it’s crucial to ensure that readers care about all the characters, forging connections and investing in their growth and development.

This connection can be profound and multi-faceted. Readers may empathize with a character’s struggles, share in their joys and sorrows, or be inspired by their resilience. The diverse range of emotions experienced through these connections creates a more immersive and satisfying reading experience.

Furthermore, connecting with multiple characters provides readers with a broader emotional palette. They can experience a rollercoaster of emotions, from joy to heartbreak, from laughter to tears, as they journey alongside various characters. This emotional depth adds richness to the narrative and fosters a deeper bond between readers and the story.

Balancing Storylines

One of the greatest challenges during the plotting process was ensuring that all our characters had a common goal to strive for throughout the story. At the beginning, they were all individuals with their own goals, but we had to mold them into a cohesive group with a shared objective.

Star Bringer is the first book in a trilogy, with an overarching plot spanning all three books. Essentially, our crew of misfits needs to save the world. However, for this first book, we had to provide a major goal that all the characters, with their disparate motivations, could rally behind. We had to show them that deep down, they all wanted and needed the same thing—at least for now.

Order Star Bringer by Tracy Wolff and Nina Croft today. 

Bookshop | Amazon
[WD uses affiliate links.]

In Conclusion

By embracing an ensemble cast, we unleashed a cosmic melting pot where a diverse group of misfit characters collided. Star Bringer is a tale of explosive interactions and unexpected connections, with each character bringing their unique quirks, strengths, and secrets to the table, creating a kaleidoscope of personalities.

Through the cosmic chaos that unfolds across the universe, we explore the dynamics between characters—hatred, love, friendship, rivalry, forgiveness, redemption, and even the occasional cosmic meltdown. These interactions serve as the gravitational force that keeps readers eagerly flipping the pages, engrossed in the journey of our misfit crew.

[Click to continue.]

The post Unleashing Cosmic Chaos: Juggling Perspectives and Crafting an Outrageous Ensemble Cast appeared first on Writer's Digest.

Order Kelly Loy Gilbert’s Everyone Wants to Know today. 

Bookshop | Amazon
[WD uses affiliate links.]

It’s an age-old conflict in fiction: that between loyalty and self-interest. Do the characters continue to do what’s expected and demanded of them, or do they go on a kind of hero’s journey to self-realization and do what they believe is right? Here are four rules for writing the conflict in a compelling way.

The characters must be fully realized

If a reader has no investment in the characters, it’s hard to care about whatever conflicts they may face. Establish early on: What is your character’s core desire in life? What is that need in their heart, the thing they long for, that’s remained unfulfilled? What are their foibles, their quirks, their hidden vulnerabilities, their flaws, those tiny acts of everyday heroism? What are the things they’re afraid to face in themselves?

The conflict must be complex

It would be easy to portray Honor’s image-obsessed family as greedy and self-interested people Honor should certainly cut ties with or at least work harder to preserve her own interests against, but life is rarely so cut and dry. Tease out your conflict: What’s the history of it? How has it been a part of your characters’ whole life? How has it shaped them? What are the things it’s given them; how has it been sustaining even as it was harmful? For Honor, her family has been the only constant in her life, the only people who truly know her and accept her as she is.

The stakes must be real

The stakes need to be clear–what else will your characters lose and gain? What is something your character values deeply that they stand to lose? In Honor’s case, some of her most cherished relationships are threatened in a very real way when she starts to try to follow what she wants in life, and soon it becomes clear that she’s going to have to sacrifice either what she wants, or the people she wants in her life.

The story must be surprising

There’s no heat in a story that follows predictable tropes all the way to a predictable end. I won’t give away spoilers, but in Everyone Wants to Know there are several total gut-punching twists; just when Honor thinks she has a handle on things, everything is completely upended.

[Click to continue.]

The post 4 Rules on How to Write the Conflict Between Loyalty and Self-Interest in Fiction appeared first on Writer's Digest.

(Grammar rules for writers.)

Rather, we’re looking at bigger picture mistakes and mishaps, including the error of using too much exposition, neglecting research, or researching too much. This week’s writing mistake writers make is ignoring your characters’ desires.

Writing Mistakes Writers Make: Ignoring Your Characters’ Desires

I had the privilege of being in Jane K. Cleland’s Thursday session “Mastering Suspense, Structure, & Plot” in July during our Writer’s Digest Annual Conference 2022. Throughout the day-long discussion on craft and genre, she asked everyone in the room to write down what their character wanted the most. Then people raised their hands and shared with us what they’d written down.

“Revenge for their parent’s death,” one attendee said. Another simply said, “Peace.”

Listening to each writer describe what their characters wanted, I realized that a big mistake most often made in first drafts is not properly identifying what our characters want. This is the seed that will grow your story—it will drive your conflict, help you navigate your resolution, and determine whether a character changes (or not).

It’s also a great way to just get to know your characters. If you have someone who has been abandoned by people in the past (their family, a series of long breakups, friends ghosting them), then they might be the kind of person who will do whatever they can to keep people from leaving them (not creating/holding boundaries, for example), even if they don’t consciously understand that.

Another important note: Your main character isn’t the only one whom you need to be aware of when it comes to desires. What about your secondary characters? Your villain? Sometimes even a third-person narrator will have desires—think about tone. Do you want them to see the characters as righteous? Ridiculous? Every voice in your story will want something, so it’s up to you to figure out what that is.

Mistake Fix: Identify What Moves Them

By identifying what touches your character, you can find what they desire most—especially if they don’t understand it yet themselves.

A perfect example of this is the All for the Game series by Nora Sakavic. Without giving anything away (and I promise you, this series is way more awesome than I’m about to make it sound), in the series, runaway Neil Josten has recently lost his mother, the person he relied on most. After he is drafted onto a college sports team, he forms relationships with his fellow players that he would do anything to keep.

It’s not until about book 2 that Neil starts to realize how much his team, the Foxes, mean to him. Until then, he didn’t actively desire a family because he’d never really had one before—at least, not like this. As his feelings for his teammates develop, his decisions change, which alters the trajectory of the plot. This allows the story to go in directions it wouldn’t have been able to otherwise.

It’s important to be specific; Neil Josten didn’t desire a family. He desired the Foxes. So, how do you determine these desires? Here are just a few ways.

Backstory

This is a great place to mine your character’s desires. In All for the Game, Neil grew up in an isolated and lonely environment—genuine connections, then, became something that would be very important to him.

When you think about your characters’ backstory, what were they missing? If they grew up without money, maybe they fear losing the wealth they have. What did they lose? If they had a mother they were very close with and then she passed, perhaps they’re searching for a similar bond (consciously or not). Is there something that they didn’t realize they needed? If they were never celebrated in their life, going viral online for something they’re passionate about might cause them to chase that feeling again.

Plot

If you know where you want your story to end up, you’ll be able to tailor your character’s desires to help you achieve that goal. Say your story is about a person who is tricked by someone on an online dating site to deliver something illegal on their behalf. What would drive someone to do something so outlandish? Maybe they’re a serial dater addicted to love; maybe they’ve never been in love, and this is the first person they feel like they really connect with.

Think about the start of your story. Who is your character? What are they like? What is their situation? Then think about the end of your story. Who do you want your character to be? What about them has changed (or not)? How has their situation changed (or not)? Make a list of some desires you could use to help them get from Point A to Point Z.

Relates to Conflict

Desire and conflict are a perfect duo because you can’t have one without the other. Think of Jurassic Park, a classic man vs. nature story. There are two characters who share a very similar desire; Dennis Nedry and Alan Grant. Dennis wants to make more money, so he takes the rival corporation’s bribe to deliver them dinosaur embryos. Alan wants his dig to be funded—it’s why he agrees to go to Isla Nublar in the first place. Though they both desire money, the fundamental wants behind that are different. Dennis is greedy; Alan wants to better understand our world through paleontology. This also affects their outcome! While Dennis, whose first and only priority is money, gets eaten by dinosaurs, Alan, whose first priority becomes the safety of himself and others, manages to get himself and his friends off the island.

What’s the conflict of your story? If you’re not sure, I wrote another article in this series about identifying conflict that might help you. How could your characters’ desires relate to this conflict?

Of course, I have stripped this subject down to its barest bones. The more you write and revise and write some more, the more your character’s desires will come to the surface for you. The most important thing is to listen to your inner author’s voice and let it guide you to where you need to go.

Click to continue.

The post Writing Mistakes Writers Make: Ignoring Your Characters’ Desires appeared first on Writer's Digest.