Bleeding on the page

Dear Reader,

Life has been rather rough on me lately, testing my character in ways I never expected. I have been terrified, startled, shocked, ashamed, depressed, angry, despairing, hopeful, and ultimately, numb. I have struggled with facing adversity and prejudice when it slapped me in the face, and trembled when tempted with something I wanted so badly but couldn’t have because it didn’t belong to me. When it came down to it, I lost my grip on reality and retreated into my mind, seeming somber to others while fighting my way out of the battle with my demons.

In the end, my writing is what made me victorious. I channeled my emotions into Tempest, my character from The Rebel’s Hero (hereafter named The Rebel’s Touch). When she felt confused and conflicted, I dove into my mind and pulled out the core of my own confusion and conflict. When she was angry, I referenced my fears that made me angry.

Writing is so much more than a job to me. I need it to cope with my life events. This past week, one of the worst I’ve had to deal with in years, was a startling wake-up call. My best writing comes from moments of despair and frustration, which kind of scares me a little.

Do I have to be unhappy to write well? I hope not. That doesn’t lend to a healthy emotional life. Nor does it lend to a sustainable writing career. But these intense moments of emotion which run roughshod over my lens of the world seems to open the very vein I need to bleed words onto the page. That raw emotion which tugs at heartstrings and makes people think of their own heartbreak. Anyway, after not writing for a little over a week, I poured almost two thousand words yesterday in a sort of daze.

It is an understatement to say the activity was cathartic. I wasn’t writing or talking or thinking about me anymore and how I was feeling. I was talking about Tempest, her issues, her emotions, her conflict. These weren’t my problems, they were hers. I was just the objective observer, feeling sorry for her plight and not being able to help in any way other than to be a friendly ear.

Am I the only one who approaches writing fiction like this? Is it unhealthy for me to write like this, or is it healthy because I get the emotions out without hurting anyone else in the process?

The Rebel’s Touch

As mentioned earlier in the post, buried somewhere in a paragraph I mentioned that The Rebel’s Hero will now be The Rebel’s Touch from now on. Why? The more I worked on it, the more I realized none of the characters are saving each other, no one is anyone’s “hero” per se. There is touching involved, though; it’s the primary plot point.Therefore, The Rebel’s Hero is henceforth The Rebel’s Touch.

Daniel needs to touch Tempest to regain memories. But he’s such a gentleman, and so shy, and so afraid of the headaches that come from recovering another memory that he’s afraid to touch her at all, even something as simple as a finger brushing the back of her hand. And Tempest has her own issues and history with not wanting to be touched… but she wants to help this man who, despite their less-than-stellar beginning, is everything she thought the ideal, impossible man should be.

Conflict. We has it.

All the best,


* Painting by Dean McDowell, found via Tumblr

Show Me, Don’t Tell Me

“Don’t talk of stars, burning above! If you’re in love, show me!
Tell me no dreams filled with desire, if you’re on fire, show me!
Here we are together in the middle of the night.
Don’t talk of spring, just hold me tight!”
Show Me from My Fair Lady

Think of your book as a court case. Would you, as the jury, believe the prosecutor if he screamed, “The defendant is guilty!!! …And I rest my case.”

No. You want proof so you believe beyond reasonable doubt that the defendant is guilty.

Apply the same idea to your writing. What proof do you have to convince your reader that your character is bored, that her hero is unhappy, that his antagonist is delighted? Let’s look at an example.

Belinda was bored. She had a lot to do and her friends, while hilarious, had no idea what sort of deadlines she faced. Three C++ programs and an analysis of Moby Dick to write? She had to figure out how to make her excuses and get out of there, quick.

What’s the problem? I’m telling you she’s bored and has a lot to do, but I don’t tell you how she’s reacting to these facts. Let’s try again.

Belinda twisted her ring around her finger. A paper and three programming assignments. She crossed her legs. Maybe she could write the Moby Dick analysis first? She uncrossed her legs. No, Moby Dick would take much longer, better do the programs first. Belinda glanced once at her cell phone, pressing the side button to illuminate the little screen and see the time. Class in twenty minutes. She stood to stretch, and no one said anything, knowing her history with back pain. She pushed her chair back to its desk and straightened the other empty chairs around her, inching for the door.

What is different? I rely on shorter sentences to portray an anxious mood. There are descriptive verbs: twisting, crossing, uncrossing, glancing, stretching, pushing, inching. Can you see someone doing this? Too polite to say they want to leave, but showing you they want to, anyway?

The Point: Use small details to reveal the bigger picture without flat out explaining the bigger picture.

Movies and songs do this because they don’t have the luxury of 80,000 words to explain everything. Love songs describe missed phone calls, the smell of an old shirt, the empty half of a bed. Small details showing us the singer is alone and heartbroken, which is more powerful than the singer repeating, “Oh, I’m heartbroken, can’t you see I’m heartbroken?”

Treat each scene in your book as if it were a scene in a movie. What details would the camera show the audience?

Showing Through Body Language

Watch your co-workers, family, friends and enemies, the strangers on the street. Can you tell what is going on without hearing the conversation? Are they standing upright? Are their shoulders hunched? Are they looking away as they speak? Are they sweating?

Showing Through the Environment

Sure, maybe it was a “dark and stormy night,” but we’ve all heard that before. What about your five senses help you realize that it is storming, and that you wouldn’t want to be caught in the middle of it? Are the gnats gathering into furious swarms? Is the heat pressing against your skin, making you feel like you can’t breathe? Are the trees swaying? Can you smell the heavy dampness?

Showing Through Architecture

What about the buildings that your characters live in? Are they worn down, a sad testiment to what once was? By the way, don’t ever say “the house was worn down, a sad testiment to what once was.” That’s telling.

Show me the house is worn down by describing spider webs in the windows, so thick they prevent the full sunlight from shining into the room. Show me how the roof is badly patched with pieces of rotting bark collected from the nearby forest. Details, details, details.

Comment on the Show Don’t Tell mantra to enter in the Worderella free critique contest. Do you think it works? Are you tired of hearing it? If this is the first time you’ve heard about it, does it confuse you?

Books to Buy: Eight Ways to Bring Fiction to Life, How to Write a Damn Good Novel

Links to reference: Showing Through Dialogue, How to Avoid Too Much Backstory

This five part series is my participation in Lynn Viehl’s Left Behind & Loving It (LB&LI) convention. I’ll tackle a different facet of editing each day:

  1. Monday: Put that shitty first draft away
  2. Tuesday: Be brutally honest
  3. Wednesday: Show me, don’t tell me
  4. Thursday: Tell me, don’t show me
  5. Friday: Focus on those nitty gritty details

Read more for details about winning a free Worderella critique at the end of this week!