First 250 Words Smash! #50

Most Wonderful Author: Nidoran @ Tumblr
Most Evil Critique Master: Sarah
Working Title: Thief

Kaslen always thought herself to be a very good thief. The guards who caught her stealing, however, did not.

She sat on a  wooden bench in a dank prison cell so old that moss grew between the stones that made up the floor and walls. The cell had a single window, only a foot tall and twice as wide with iron bars added to obstruct both the view and any chance at escape.

She’d only been there a few hours (not even long enough to get a meal of stale bread and murky water), and her sentence wasn’t a long one.  For the crime of stealing a single apple from a stall in the market, her punishment was to be imprisoned for one night or lose a hand. Being an intelligent thief in addition to a very good thief, Kaslen chose the former.

Despite the guards thinking that she was one of the worst thieves they’d ever had the pleasure of putting in prison, Kaslen had the delight in knowing that everything had gone according to plan. So long as everyone suspected the contrary, Kaslen would always rest easy knowing that she was indeed a very good thief.

Kaslen’s sentence was so short the guards didn’t make her change into prison rags, as was typical. Instead, they took her boots, socks, and worn leather vest full of empty pockets (she left her valuables with someone she thought was trustworthy) so all she had left was her sleeveless undershirt and leggings.

Strong Points –
The strongest thing that resonated most with me was Kaslen’s voice. She comes through in every single sentence, and she sets the tone and the mood pretty darn effortlessly. Everything in the passage was an easy read, easy to follow, and Kaslen’s voice is a big part of that. Seriously, voice is such a pivotal component in fiction, especially for teen and kid fiction, so to be able to manage a good balance of it is A+.

And, on a similar note, I love the overall tone of what I’m about to get into. There’s this twisted seriousness that doubles back on itself and actually reads contrarily. An example is this line: “her punishment was to be imprisoned for one night or lose a hand. Being an intelligent thief in addition to a very good thief, Kaslen chose the former.” It’s the type of subtle humor that I really enjoy, and it keeps the tone almost airy.


Some Tips –
The writing itself is pretty solid, so the stuff I’m going to talk about is more conceptual – stuff to consider beyond prose. Story stuff. Yeah. So, let’s start with the biggest thing.

The intro is primarily setup, not the story. In this case, we get to hear a lot about the stuff that happened before the story begins. Kaslen was caught stealing something, Kaslen was put in a cell, Kaslen’s sentence was decided to be short, Kaslen had a trustworthy person hold her important things – but little about Kaslen now, in the moment, when the story actually begins.

Setup often answers questions before they’re asked, or gives answers before the answers are actually needed. The result, in this case, is a very slow start. Sometimes stories can get away with this, especially Middle Grade or the 200k word epic fantasy or space opera.

(What a weird duality. But also keep in mind that there’s always exceptions.)

But what we have to decide is how absolutely necessary it is to explain these things right now, delaying the start of the actual story. Is it possible that, maybe, the story started too late? If we need to give so much background information, should the story actually start sooner? Should the reader be shown these events rather than told?

Or, is the story very much starting at the right place, and these moments of setup should be dropped in as needed, rather than all in the beginning?

Or it could be that the story is just fine as it is. In the end, it’s a creative choice, and that’s all incredibly subjective. The opening as it is reminds me of “Throne of Glass” by Sarah J Maas, if I remember correctly (it’s been a whiiile), where the opening started right with the main character in the action of being dragged to face judgment after being arrested. I loved that, I did, and while the long and frequent jumps into story setup bugged the heck out of me, I continued on anyway.

So, ultimately, it’s a creative call for the writer to make based on what their story, which they know best, needs.

The few other issues I had were much smaller. First, let’s talk about the opening lines.

I could see why the two first sentences are there, since it comes around again in the third paragraph (though, to be honest, I missed the connection initially – it might have been because I had a short interruption while reading, but I can’t be sure), but to me the opening lines feel again like setup. A delay in the actual start of the story to make a superfluous point that the story later on might elaborate upon through showing instead of telling.

On top of that, the opening line is reiterated several types throughout the intro, and while this might have been by design, it felt a bit redundant to me. On one hand, it felt like Kaslen was trying really hard to convince herself she’s actually a good thief, while in fact may very well not be, but on the other hand, it felt like a lot of echoes for only the first page.

Finally, and this is just the fashion history nerd in me – I sort of mentally placed the story as a medieval fantasy (because of the cell and the laws of the world), but the description of the clothes threw me for a loop, what since the terminology is very modern as opposed to medieval.

So, the two contradicting elements weren’t agreeing with me. This might be cleared up if I was to read on, or it might actually be an inconsistency. I don’t know yet.

But, a good thing to always keep in mind is that credible fantasy worlds have a foundation on real history. Things came about for particular reasons, whether with technology or trade or travel. Fashion is equal parts available resources, trends, laws, religion, and so on.

So, when I see a medieval-type cell but modern clothing such as leggings and socks, I’m not sure what to expect.

(And, because I took a class on the evolution of western fashion, I’m going to be one of those snubs who notices little inconsistencies.)


Would I Keep Reading?
Despite the slow start and the things I said about all the setup, I actually would. I’m intrigued by the question of Kaslen in jail for stealing an apple, because it all seemed planned?? And I want to know why?? I mean, she says she’s a good thief, but then lets herself get caught for stealing an apple??? Mysteries.

♥ x 2,714 (Don't ask why.)

Battling Clichés

Anonymous asked:

What’s wrong with prophecies in a fantasy novel? Specially with the Chosen One. I have it by accident, but it’s kind of different. I think if it’s justified and well done it can work, what do you think? Any advice on writing it and being original? P.S.: I CAN’T delete it, it is really important. Thank you so much!

Taken from TVTropes.org on the archetype “The Chosen One”:

“The ultimate victim (or beneficiary) of Because Destiny Says So. The oldest and most common Super Hero Origin. The easiest way to turn an Ordinary High School Student into the only thing preventing The End of the World as We Know It. Take it for granted that they are the Only One.”

The examples listed above are all tropes in The Chosen One archetype that have been done so many times that their classic definition is a widely recognized cliché. That’s what you want to avoid when it comes to using The Chosen One as a plot device.

When people say not to use the “prophecy” in a fantasy novel, it’s usually because it’s been done to death, and also because it’s used as an unquestionable catalyst to put the story in motion. Oftentimes, instead of components coming together synergistically to create the story, The Prophecy can be used as a cop-out, a “greater power” that cannot be questioned, which propels the story just because.

So, if the answer to the big question of, “Why this character?” is simply, “Because,” that can frustrate readers.

However, this doesn’t mean you need to avoid The Prophecy and The Chosen One at all costs. Classic tropes can be used, there’s nothing wrong with that. Even the dystopia subgenre, only a fairly recently recognized subgenre (although it’s existed for much longer), already has its common set of tropes and clichés.

The trick is to take the trope and do something other than the cliché. If you’ve read widely enough, you know how authors tend to utilize the aforementioned, and you can discern what worked for the story and what didn’t. Take what you know and apply it to your story, do something that you haven’t read yet with The Chosen One, something that hasn’t been done.

Make it fresh, original, twist it, do something different and unexpected.

Sometimes this’ll take a lot of thought and planning. Sometimes you’ll have to pull components from other stories, other genres even (crossing genres is always an awesome way to break out of the typical clichés). Combine different elements and then ask yourself if the story is weighing too much on the cliché.

A trick I use is to write up a summary that would go on the back cover (or the query), and then I can more objectively see what this story might look like to someone else so I can ask myself:

• Does this read like too many other back covers?
• What makes this story unique?
• What stands out?
• If it’s lacking pizzazz, how can I change things up?
• If there are clichés, what can I do to drop-kick some originality into them?

The most important thing in the end is that you write the story that you want to write, because that’s what will keep you writing. Don’t write what people want you to write about, and don’t let people tell you what you shouldn’t write, because plenty of writing advice tells you just that. You’re in charge of your own story, so if your story hinges on The Prophecy and The Chosen One, then work the heck out of it.

• Clichés
• Stereotypes, Tropes, and Archetypes
• Kick the Fantasy Cliché (And Some World Building Tips)
• Ten Fantasy Clichés That Should Be Put to Rest 

(cross-posted from KSW on Tumblr)

The Question of Outlining

So, you’ve got a great story stuck in your head. Your fingers are itching to write it and the plot twists are keeping you up at night. Of course, there’s also the characters who’ve brought their suitcases and pets and have taken up residence in your brain. You’re so ready to start this story that your bones ache.

And then you sit down with your torture device of preference (a laptop or a pen or whatever).

Nothing happens.

Or, maybe you grit your teeth and push out a few lines, but, oh hell, they’re awful and completely not what you were going for at all and—repeat this process until mind is lost or fingers are raw.

Don’t despair. This is a common issue that writers have, and one of the causes for your trouble is that you’re not prepared enough. Many writers like to open up a document and just write to the end, discovering the story as they go, and then make all the necessary revisions after. They might have some idea what they’re getting into, but the process is still mostly a discovery.

Some of us need to know a bit more about where we’re going first. Outlines can help.

Here are some pros for outlines:

• Discovering and strengthening the plot arc in the outline can aid in proper foreshadowing.
• Predicting plot holes in advance means we can make changes before we’ve even started writing.
• If you do something to the latter half of the outline that requires changes in the first half, those changes are a whole lot easier to make than rewriting.
• Similarly, with any mystery elements, we can carefully plant clues in advance and see how each clue affects the story. If something doesn’t work, it’s much easier to backtrack than rewrite.
• Outlines can help with planning pacing and the right amount of tension, conflict, and necessary exposition.
• In the case of multiple POVs, outlines can help balance the spotlight, or screen time, for each character to make sure they’re all carrying their weight.
• Especially with planning a series, subplots are often like herding kittens (or like herding all your drunken friends, y’know) and can get away very easily. Outlines can help with maintaining boss mom oversight on all the baby plots.
• Outlines allow us to see the whole story from an aerial viewpoint, and then we can see how everything runs together. We can look for repetitious patterns, lagging aftermath scenes, problematic scene bridges, and so forth.
• Some of us have surprisingly terrible memory, and having an outline makes looking for a particular scene or tidbit easier to find instead of trying to guess which chapter and skim until we lose all our hair.
• For those who so choose, having an outline makes it easier for scenes to be written out of order and then connected later.

Here are some cons:

• An outline can remove or hamper the thrill of discovery a writer has with writing the story.
• Micromanaging details can bring the focus away from enjoying the writing, stressing instead that a story must go according to plan. Plans don’t always work the way we plan.
• Characters can develop beyond our expectations, altering the course of the plot and effectively voiding most or all of the outline. Characters enjoy ruining things like that.
• Good, effective outlines take a lot of time. And even then, outlines are subject to change during the process of writing, which means a lot more work needs to be done with the outline.
• Writing an outline is not writing. Outlines are a lot like building a skeleton and making sure all the molars are in place in the jaw before we start applying muscle and sinew and flesh.
• Sometimes outlines just don’t effectively predict the story like actually writing the story does.

Some of us are really good planners, some of us enjoy spontaneity a bit more, some of us are a bit of both. But if you’re not a good planner, you can become a better planner through learning and practice.

I used to “pants” all my stories and went wherever the story took me. I learned pacing through sensing when scenes were lagging and needed an injection of adrenaline—but, oftentimes, this led to directions I didn’t want to take and characters developing in ways that answered “the big question” of the story too soon. Subplots were also left hanging all over the place, and when I’d come back to revise, I often stopped and tapped my head like, “What the heck was I going to do with this?”

But I’ve also experience with outlines that were incredibly too strict, where I jotted down bits of conversation that couldn’t always be organically included, and when I forced the characters to constrain to the outline, I impaired their development.

Here are some of my personal methods with outlining:

• I write my outlines knowing I’m going to alter them somewhere, somehow. This helps me distance myself from any awesome scenes I have planned, so if I have to cut them, I can without mercy (or at least move them or set them aside, just in case the scene can be recycled).
• I leave endings vague, or open, until after I’m well into writing. I might create a list of things that need to happen by the end as I write, especially as characters develop and do what they need to do. By a certain point, I can more aptly finish the outline and draw all the arcs together (especially if I have a particularly large cast with many character arcs).
• When I make changes as I write, I cross out unused material and add changes with a different color. This way I can keep track of what was put in and what was scrapped.
• Sometimes, vagueness is fine. Rather frequently throughout the outline I have details like, “I have no idea what will happen here” when I bring two characters together, because I honestly don’t.
• I’ll make notes along the outline of such things like “remember the character thinks this” or “remember this is happening too” or “remember the character broke their cell phone” (which happens a lot, let me tell you, my characters sit down way too hard).
• Some scenes might have a ton of intricate details in the outline, and I might carry on about it for an enormous paragraph that takes up half the page. Other scenes might be single lines. It all depends on how many pieces of the plot I’m throwing at the characters, and some scenes might only deal with one piece, and that’s okay.
• I keep just enough details in the outline that I have to flip back to it only a few times while writing a scene, and not constantly. If I have to flip back too many times, I’m stopping the flow of writing, and too much of that can break concentration, and then I’m on tumblr, writing a post about outlines.
• After I finish an outline, I let it sit. I let the sediment settle like I would after I finish the last word of the last chapter of a manuscript. The process of airing things out lets me see my thoughts and ideas clearly and objectively so I can make any tweaks I need to.
• Sometimes outlines drive me crazy. This is okay. Being a writer means I’m not all there anyway.

I didn’t always outline. I started out pantsing my way through manuscripts because outlines destroyed my need to tell the story. As I started telling more stories, I started using little bulleted lists, and those little lists grew into huge outlines, and then I found something in the middle that worked for me.

The key is finding what works for you. And how you find that depends on how you test your chemistry with different outlining strategies. Sometimes different stories require different types of outlines, because some stories might need meticulous planning and some might need exploring. It all depends on the writer.

Here are some links:

• Guidelines Not Outlines
• For the Architects: The Planning Process
• How to Create a Plot Outline in Eight Easy Steps
• Novel Outlining 101

(cross-posted from KSW on Tumblr)

Some Help On Picking Character Names

The names of a cast of characters can say a lot about the author. Because my parents gave me a very simple, extremely popular biblical name for my generation (as in, when walking down the hall at my high school and someone called out “Hey, Sarah!” about three heads turned in response), I tended to give my characters odd names that I had never heard before.

The problem was that I knew nothing of the culture from which the names were borrowed.

While critiquing, I’ve identified other inherent problems, such as having a cast of simple English names and one token ethnic name, or a fantasy setting with keyboard smash names that look like drunken Welsh slurring.

Names are a lot more than basic labels for your characters, but don’t require the selling of any souls. Here’s a handful of suggestions to possibly consider as you name your characters:

1. Ask your character what kind of name they want. They might take what you gave them and change it anyway. Say their parents named their little girl Sally, but she tells you she’s transgender and wants to be called Sal, or maybe change the name altogether even without your permission.
2. Similarly, names affect how characters identify themselves and how other characters identify each other. A character with a very unique name might be very conscious of it, or they might wear it proudly. A secondary character might misspell or misspeak your character’s name, maybe intentionally or unintentionally.
3. Try, if possible, to avoid common modern names. There’s nothing like reading a book and constantly associating the main character’s name with your second cousin who pulls the wings off of bees (unless, of course, your character IS the second cousin who pulls the wings off of bees).
4. Or, it might just be that your character has to have a common modern name for whatever reason. Don’t despair if they do. A current trend in naming babies is to alter the original spelling of a name. This is a good way to differentiate your character and make their name more memorable, but be certain it’s realistic that whoever named the character is/are likely to do this.
5. If you’ve picked a name and grown attached to it, and then read a book that uses the exact same name, don’t panic. If this is without a doubt the name of your character, then leave it as it is. When your book is published, it will most likely be several years after the book you’ve just read (on average, it takes 1.5-2 years from a publishing contract to the shelves). Don’t worry about it for now and write on.
6. But if you’re super worried about it, try giving your main character a different nickname. For example, Elizabeth can be Beth, Liz, Lizzy, Liza, Eli, or Eliza.
7. Don’t get too caught up in the meaning behind names unless the culture of your character forms names around the meaning. Your character is likely to give the name new meaning by the end of the story anyway. As an example, when people hear the name "Hermione", the first thing that comes to mind isn't how the name is derived from Hermes.
8. Often a trap that I’ve seen writers fall into is naming a character after something prominent and/or universally symbolic, which will then play into the story. An example is the character who betrays the main character having the name of Judas. Don’t do that. Even if Judas doesn’t betray the main character, the reader will spend the whole book waiting for him to.
9. If you have a fantasy setting, base it upon actual history to create a realistic foundation. Look at the way names were formed, from what, and why. (As an example, the names in pre-colonial Southeast Asian kingdoms were influenced quite differently than the names in Europe during the rise of the Catholic Church.)
10. If you have POC in your cast, make sure you’ve done all your research and fully understand the culture and its history before you look at names. Also consider the generation of your character. If they’re the second generation to live in the States, then they might have an English first name, or both an English name and a name from their heritage. A country that was heavily colonialized might commonly use English, Spanish, or other European names already.
11. Make sure you understand how the language and the formation of names in a particular culture work. I took Chinese in both high school and college, but my professor admonished me for creating such an unattractive, nonsensical Chinese name for a project. It forced me to question the names of all my Chinese characters (and also the origin, because common name dictionaries don’t differentiate between particular regions and dialects of China).
12. Don’t be daunted by the aforementioned if you have characters with cultures unfamiliar to you. Research is an inherent part of writing, and effective and adequate research forms a solid and realistic foundation (or interpretation, in the case of fantasy) for your characters. Make sure you’ve done more than enough before you even start looking at names.

Don’t stress yourself out over the naming of a character. If you pick one and decide it just isn’t working, then try again. With a first draft, perfection is the enemy. Do all your necessary preparations beforehand and don’t be afraid to get it wrong as you write. That’s what revision is for. And if a critique partner suggests you change a name, remember it's all inevitably up to you.

Besides, when you get your literary agent, he or she may tell you to change the name you worked hard to choose anyway. Then you might decide to flip all the tables and start the process all over again.

What other suggestions do you guys have with hunting for names?

Make Your Reader Hold Their Breath

From this post, number two reads like this:

When your character trips and stumbles and stops to question themselves, the readers will hold their breath.

So, you’ve got your story arc (or something that remotely resembles some sort of an albeit questionable arc). Maybe you’ve outlined, maybe you’ve jotted down some rough notes, maybe you’ve got the whole damn detailed and coherent synopsis, or maybe it’s all still stewing in your head. Whatever the case may be, cool. This is a good step.

What about your character arc?

First of all, what is a character arc? It runs in tandem with your rising action, and it’s also referred to as character growth/change. Whatever your character is missing in the opening, they obtain it by the end. Your character at the beginning of the story will not be the same character by the climax of your story. This is good. Static characters that are impervious to change won’t resonate with your reader.

Maybe this sounds a bit daunting, but don’t worry: characters tend to take on lives of their own. As soon as you drop them in the story, your character should come alive. Don’t try to control them. They’ll resist. And if they do, let them. They’re real people, and I know this sounds hippie-ish, but treat your characters like real people. If you’re having trouble caring about them, then stop and remember that they’re real people. Make sure you understand their conflicts, their desires, and how these things will be revved up by your story arc.

But the journey from the beginning to the end can’t be easy-peasy. If resolutions and answers are coming to your character without any form of trial or struggles, rethink the story arc. You’re not challenging your character.

How does someone challenge their character?

Bad example:

Cindy wanted a candy cane off the tree. So, she reached up and grabbed a candy cane.

Good example:

Cindy wanted a candy cane off the tree. Pools of lava bubbled at her feet, and she had no shoes. A bottomless mote with a ravenous alligator encircled the tree, and she didn’t know how to swim. The presents were actually bombs in disguise, and she could make out the sound of ticking. She crumbled to her knees and stared at her plastic-wrapped goal, gleaming against the pine needles.

Replace Cindy with your character, replace the pools of lava and the alligator and the bombs with trials, and the candy cane with your character’s goal. Challenge your character. Bring them to the very edge of their abilities and make them teeter and sweat and hesitate.

The despair, the questioning of oneself, the doubt, it’s all part of the growing process. “I’m scared, I don’t know if I can do this” makes the reader think “Try, just try, come on and become awesome.” When a character has worked so hard, earning our respect (in one way or another, no matter how simple or twisted), and they fall, the reader urges that character to get back up and come out wiser and stronger. The reader wants the character to be challenged and to earn their goal, and every trip and stumble along the way is part of that process. And when you come to one of these moments, don’t cheat your character or the reader.

Bad example:

Cindy crumbled to her knees and stared at her plastic-wrapped goal. It was hopeless. Oh, but wait, she had learned how to make a hang glider out of twigs and palm fronds, so she set to work and flew over the traps and plucked the candy cane from the tree.

Good example:

Cindy walked the entire perimeter four times. Her feet burned from the scalding rock. The air was thin in her lungs. She pulled at her hair and stole glances of the path back home. It was hopeless. She couldn’t do this on her own. Maybe the candy cane wasn’t meant for her at all, and maybe the mocking of the kids who had doubted her would wear off after some time. After all, there was nothing she could do.

Unless…

This adds to the relatable human element of a character, and it’s in these moments that we see the character arc shine through. Even if your main character is the antagonist, readers need that connectable human element – it will make a fan out of your readers, make them bite their nails and turn the page to find out what happens next.

(Also, find part one here!)

Make Your Reader Root For Your Main Character

This possible series will expand upon this post, where I had slapped down some ideas to consider in regards to hitting your reader in the gut.

Number one reads like this:

1. Make your reader root for your main character(s). Make your character stretch out their arm toward their goal, as far as they can to reach, until their fingertips barely brush it. Make your character want something so much that your reader wants it, too.

Now, this is a lot to unload, but easy to grasp. First of all, if you’re having trouble getting your character motivated to make the steps forward that you need in order to continue as you’ve planned, then this might be one of your problems: your character is without a goal.

That’s not good, but relatively an easy fix.

First of all, your character’s goal should tie into the plot. If you’re the type of writer that creates a plot before the character, be sure that you weave your character and your plot together. This is what will create your premise. Think of the little passages that you read on the back covers of paperbacks, or the inside flap of a dustcover. This is the premise. The premise asks the big question of “What will happen when…?”

If you’re the type of writer that creates the characters and then the plot, your duty is still the same. You’ve got to give your character a desire—a driving force—that propels them headfirst into your plot (or feet-first, depending on what you’re into, you know). This desire can be anything, whether it’s as commercial as wanting to find the right guy from a dating website, or atypical like a man who desires intimacy with a young girl. The desire doesn’t have to be positive, and it doesn’t have to be negative, but it nevertheless must drive your character.

So, once you’ve got your premise and burning coals under your character’s bare feet, how do you make the reader care?

Let’s start with this:

A girl is put in a frozen sleep with her parents to take a ship three-hundred years to another planet?

Well, okay.

A girl who is conscious throughout the entire sleep and is accidentally awoken fifty years too early while her parents are still frozen?

I’m not much of a ships-in-space sci-fi type of reader, but I picked this up and burned right through it because I was sucked in by the human element.

In the early years of Superman and Captain America, people wanted a superhero. Times were bad. War was in the air. People were looking for something, well, super. Nowadays, people want super characters—that are relatable. This is especially crucial in YA (young adult)/teen fiction. We like a character that we can identify with, and this doesn’t necessarily mean that we need to see ourselves in these characters, but we need to be able to connect with them. We need to understand where they’re coming from, whether protagonist or antagonist.

How do you do this?

My favorite way: through suffering.

If you have a villain as a main character, your readership can find themselves rooting for this individual if you give meaning to what they’re doing—if you show that they’ve struggled to get where they are, or are continuing to struggle.

A reader is drawn in by a person who has suffered, but continues to fight for their desire. We want to see people succeed. When someone stands up in front of class to give a speech, we want them to do well, especially if their quivering hands or timid voice reveal they’re scared shitless. We as the audience send them stronger vibes, perhaps smile bigger, or relax our postures to be more open, or laugh a little louder when they attempt self-deprecating humor.

(Am I recalling some sort of traumatic moment in front of class or something?)

We’ve all been there, after all, so we can associate with this fear of failure. We connect with the struggle to succeed. We want people to succeed.

So, whatever your character wants, regardless if they’re the good guy or bad guy or neither of the two, make them work for it. Throw obstacles in their way, force them to struggle, reveal how much they need this ultimate goal, whether they’re aware of their need or not, whether it’s a tangible thing or a fractured idea.

If they fall, make it hurt. If they get back up, make it hurt more. It’s in these moments that your character transcends the page and becomes a real person.

10 Ways to Hit Your Reader In the Gut

One of the strongest bonds that link us to our favorite stories is the emotional tie, or books that sink a fist right into our guts. If ever you’ve found a book that you couldn’t let go of after the last page, chances are, the author successfully punched you in the spleen. If you’ve ever wondered how to do just that, here are some of my favorite methods:

1. Make your reader root for your main character(s). Make your character stretch out their arm toward their goal, as far as they can to reach, until their fingertips barely brush it. Make your character want something so much that your reader wants it, too.
2. When your character trips and stumbles and stops to question themselves, the readers will hold their breath.
3.  Push your character to their very limit, and then a little further.
4.  When your character hits the bottom, they should scrape themselves back together and get back up. Give readers a reason to believe in your character.
5.  If your character is challenging your plot, your plot should challenge your character.
6.  Leave a trail of intrigue, of questions, of “what if?” and “what next?”
7.  If a character loses something (a battle, an important memento, part of themselves), they must eventually gain something in equal exchange, whether for good or bad.
8.  Raise the stakes. Then raise them higher.
9.  Don’t feel pressured to kill a character (especially simply to generate emotional appeal). A character death should serve the plot, not the shock factor. Like anything else in your story, only do it if it must be done and there’s no other way around it.
10.  What’s the worst that can happen? Make it happen. Just make sure that the reader never loses hope.

Do You Have Trouble With Your Titles?

A title is one of the first chances you have to intrigue a reader – as well as a potential agent or publisher. An alluring title could make the difference between reaching the hands of a literary agent or sitting in the slush pile for another few months.

For me, a book cover is what catches my eye first (I won’t lie, especially if it’s a shiny book cover), but an evocative title is what makes me actually pick a book up. Here are some of my personal favorites off the top of my head:

The Forest of Hands and Teeth

City of Bones

The Looking Glass Wars

Hush, Hush

13 Reasons Why

The Girl of Fire and Thorns

The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer

Under the Never Sky

Jessica's Guide to Dating on the Dark Side

Some Girls Are

Stolen

Shiver

Possession (paired with the cover was incredibly brilliant)

Need

Boneshaker

Each of the aforementioned either convinced me to pick the book up instantly, or remained imprinted in my brain so that I remembered the title and sought it out later.

So how the heck do you create a title like that?

I start thinking of a title as soon as I’ve solidified the premise of my manuscript, and I begin smashing words together after I’ve jotted a rough outline. I do this because, as I write, the title evolves with my writing (often dramatically, since I rarely find a winner within the first few tries). If I have some sort of rough idea to start, then I have something to work with as I go along, and then I don’t reach the end of a manuscript and think, “…..How do title?”

Start with anything but “untitled”. Don’t cheat yourself out of the chance to get your first words or ideas down, just like with anything you write. Slap words onto paper or a document, even if you cringe and writhe in agony. Getting over this initial hump will help you tremendously, and as you oh-so contentedly go on about writing (if only it were that easy), give yourself opportunities at certain points to rethink your title with these questions:

Does it give hint to what the story is about?

Does it sound like how my story is written?

Does it give a sense of atmosphere?

Does it create a question in which a potential reader will need to answer?

For example, one of my most favorite titles is “The Forest of Hands and Teeth”. This was a book I did not pick up right away, but I couldn’t shake the title out of my brain and ended up reading it a couple years later (yes, a couple YEARS later). This title is amazing in that it inspires imagery, atmosphere, and mood all in six words. It makes us readers ask, “What IS the forest of hands and teeth and why don’t I know about it? What goes on in there and how do the people survive it?”

If horror or dystopian isn’t your cup of soy, then how about “The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer”? I wanted to know who Mara was, and I wanted to know what had happened to her, and what was happening to her. I had the sense of a character unraveling, and I needed to know why. I picked this one up almost right away.

When I think up a title, I don’t stop reimagining it until I’m satisfied long after I settled on it. Epiphanies hit me and I’ll think “I’ve got it this time!” – but then the next day my palm hits my forehead and I’m like, “What was I high on?”

Also, do your title thinking in your best thinking times. For me, it’s while driving and, er…in the shower. Don’t judge me. It’s at these moments that my brain is distracted just enough that I’m not trying too hard to think, and ideas have the most freedom to wriggle into my brain.

If you’re frustrated, or if nothing’s happening as you try to structure your title, you’re thinking much too hard. Loosen up, go for a walk, listen to music, vacuum the house, brush all your cats. Distract yourself. Keep yourself from thinking too hard. Magic often happens when you least expect it.