The 5 Things You Need to Succeed at Writing Your Book

Over the past two decades, I have helped scores of people write to "The End." I've been a ghost, a co-writer, a developmental editor and a book writing coach.

I have come to the conclusion that there are 5 things the successful "new" author needs to write a good book:

1. Something Worth Saying

Recognizing the intrinsic value of what you're writing about motivates you in ways that simply saying "I want to write a book" can never do. 

Some of my clients are working on their memoirs. One has written a portion of his father's biography. One long time client is continually looking for ways to make the subject in which he earned his doctorate degree interesting and accessible to the average person. They all strongly believe in the value of what they write. That propels them forward.

2. Simple Sentence

I encourage every client, before they write Word One, to develop a single sentence that encompasses their project. Ideally, the sentence includes the genre and scope of the work, while also presenting a promise of what the book will deliver.

That sentence can take some new authors longer to write than an entire chapter later in the process, but it is invaluable. It allows the writer to have a ready answer to the question "What's your book about?" And it provides a firm foundation on which to build the rest of the project.

3. Structural Integrity

Sure, you can write a book without paying attention to structure, Punkin. But it won't be any good. Imagine a house without a framework. That's a book without structure.

 

If you're working with a book coach who does not make absolutely certain that you understand the critical importance of structure and teach you how to apply basic structural tenets to your project, they are either incompetent or using you as their personal cash cow.

I said what I said. And I stand behind it.

4. Single-mindedness

This is where many authors -- new and not-so-new -- sometimes struggle. It's easy to get in the middle of a project and be distracted by a different project: one that's newer, sexier, flashier, more timely, or more salable.

I know that Sir Terry Pratchett would often have 8 or 10 or more books in various stages of completion at a time. Isaac Asimov could work on multiple books at a time. Maybe one day you can do that too. But let's get the first one done first. 

That means no dithering. No stopping and re-starting (once you've done your structure work, there's no need for such things). No chasing after other shiny projects. Just focus on getting This One Done.

5. A Solid Support System

Your family and friends may or may not be a part of your writing support system.

That guy who keeps spamming your Facebook writing group asking for agent recommendations is definitely not part of your book support system.

Your support system includes every one who says, "Let me know when it comes out and I'll buy it." 

It's every person who hears you are writing a book who doesn't start telling you about this kid they know who wrote a book and got an agent and sold a bazillion copies without even trying. 

It's every person who learns you are writing a book and who doesn't remind you that you once failed English class and had to repeat it.

It's your book writing coach. It may also be your neighbor, your co-worker, the girl you talk to at the gym, the family you meet at the dog park, or your dentist. 

Tell people you're writing a book. When they ask what it's about, tell them your simple sentence. Look for those people who light up when they hear it, who want to hear more. They exist. Their interest will support you as your write your book. Because -- like you -- they can't wait to read it!

The Structured Life: Thoughts On Adapting Reality for Entertainment

The past two weeks have been a sleep-deprived blur of script rewrites with my fabulous co-writer (and soon-to-be-famous director) Paul. We've been hard at work tearing apart our script and building a brighter, better story from the rubble.

Are you not entertained?

This entire project has been a learning experience. You see: it's a biopic. Which means it is based on a real someone's Real Life. And in Real Life, this someone experienced some Real Crap. Loads of it. Years of it. What makes the story so compelling is how one man was able to rise above the crap, overcome its stranglehold on him, and go on to lead a full, productive life.

Both Paul and I are fans of "Save the Cat." Our original script followed STC structure. But  in it, too much Real Life grabbed the reader by the throat. It was just too dang depressing.

"The problem," we kept reminding ourselves, "is that people don't live their lives by Save the Cat story beats."

On the surface, our task was simple. Just make the movie more uplifting. Less of a downer. You know: something people can eat popcorn to.

However, our subject was a man who went from a world-famous athlete to seriously injured drug addict. His battle with addiction had originally been the crux of our story. But there's precious little one can do to make Real Life addiction and recovery fun.

False high? False low? Regardless,
the Midpoint is a Point of No Return.
Photo by mxruben

Our original midpoint of the film was the accident that sent our hero down the whirling vortex of injury and addiction. From a structure standpoint, it worked and it worked well. From an entertainment perspective, however, it became the tentpole for gloom, doom, and misery.

What finally helped us was approaching our story armed with only general structure and story beats. According to STC, the midpoint should either be a "false high" or a "false low." We decided that the accident would happen much later in the second act. Then we made a list of every major high or low in our hero's life and tried each one out as a midpoint.

It was amazing how quickly we realized that by moving the Terrible Accident much later in the story, we freed ourselves up to focus more on the ups and downs, the highs and lows of being a professional athlete. Suddenly, what had been a "one man overcomes drug addiction" story became a powerful sports biopic, complete with a "will he win or won't he?" duel in the second half.

We didn't eliminate the Terrible Accident. Far from it. It's a critical part of the story. But it's no longer THE story. Now the story is more about willingly throwing oneself at life, regardless of the odds of winning. It's much more engaging and entertaining. It gives the audience something to root for. And though the script doesn't gloss over the dark stuff, it doesn't wallow in darkness either.

If you're writing fiction, the story beats are largely up to you. You can massage the plot and make it your minion. That's easier said than done, however, if you're in the process of adapting non-fiction. Still, there is no reason to abandon solid structure. Knowing your beats and your reasons for them will only make the story stronger.

Some Suggestions for Adapting Reality for Entertainment
[An overly simplified look at structure]:

1.) Know your hero's everyday reality. (Set-Up).
2.) Know what makes your hero exceptional. Know what your hero wants (Catalyst & Theme).
3.) Show your hero dealing with the naysayers who try to hold him back (Debate).
4.) Know what bumps your hero out of his normal world (Break into Two).
5.) Show your hero learning the ropes of his new life (Fun and Games).
6.) Know the Moment at which everything changes & life is never again the same (Midpoint).
7.) Show your hero struggling to regain his earlier momentum. Increase the odds against him (Bad Guys Close In).
8.) Show your hero's darkest hour: where even the hero thinks he's failed (All is Lost).
9.) Show your hero discovering hidden reserves. Armed with this new strength, he charges back into action (Break into Three).
10.) Explore all the ways your hero draws upon his new-found skills to overcome his problems (Finale).

When working with Real Life, the overall "what happened" is a given. If the story has merit, you shouldn't have to take liberties with it to make it compelling. But sometimes the extras of Real Life -- the C and D and Y and Z story lines -- can obscure the core story. That's when overlaying an overly simplified view of structure atop what really happened can help you chart a course for a story that's as interesting and engaging to your audience as it is true to your subject.

Guest Blogger Maggie Mendus: In Praise of Poetic Structure

NOTE: Today's guest blogger is poet, author, & blogger Maggie Mendus . I first met Maggie at a writer's workshop I taught. She has relentlessly pursued her passion: writing and publishing poetry. 

Maggie is "a poet who writes to heal." A retired language arts teacher and a pianist, she is published in "The Eclectic Muse," "Romantics Quarterly," "Harp Strings," "Poets’ Forum Magazine," and "Sandcutters." She and her husband live in the wooded dunes of Lake Michigan. She is the author of Broken Consciousness. 

Wait, don’t go anywhere. Just because you might not read poetry written in the classic forms doesn’t mean we can’t be friends. I mean it. I was taught to write poetry in traditional forms, and I know the trend these days is free verse, sometimes very free.

Oh, I’ve been to those readings where some bearded guy with dreads sways in front of an audience, eyes closed, head thrown back, the dramatic glissando of his voice sliding between whispers and shouts. I try, but can’t follow his train of thought, and I don’t like being aboard trains that might derail. He’s a performance poet, for sure.

Now I have nothing against beards, dreadlocks, performance poets, or (well-written) free verse. But hey, what I’m hearing has to make some sort of sense. And these dudes go off down winding paths of wild emotion. Their angry tirades, political ravings, and decadent wanderings into love and sex never make sensible circuits with beginnings, middles and ends.

I keep an open mind. But traditional verse met me on the road and we became friends. No, the French villanelle wasn’t easy at first. But reading villanelles (same form as Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night by Dylan Thomas) ignited something in me. I wanted to write one, too.

Why am I attracted to the difficult? Believe me when I tell you that my first attempts were macaroni and cheese compared to a delicate soufflé. But the detailed rhyme scheme kept my attention, and after a lot of blood, sweat, and tears I produced one, an original expression that obeyed the structures the villanelle imposes. I felt as if I’d passed some sort of test with flying colors.

"Poetic fences create boundaries." Photo by Jane M. Sawyer.

Of course that motivated me to write more, and the villanelle became my favorite form. Practice, like keeping my fingers nimble for the piano by playing scales, aims me toward success. I find the sonnet more challenging, but I like writing anaphora and terza rima. I write triolet, rondeau, pantoum, and other formal verse, finding that structure is freeing. Poetic fences create boundaries, and in traditional verse a line is just that, an exact number of syllables, a particular rhythm, a certain rhyme.

This quest urges me ahead and keeps me writing. In early March I published a book of 52 poems, BROKEN CONSCIOUSNESS: Reflections of an Epileptic , and all but one are in traditional form.

Why not try your hand at a poem in one of the classic forms? A great guide is Lewis Turco’s The Book of Forms , a worthwhile tool. Like me, you might resist….at first. But who knows? Also like me, you may become hooked. 

A final word from Ami: I share Maggie's love of structure in writing. Some of my most rewarding writing is done within a strict structural framework. What are your thoughts? Are you a classicist? A student of structure? Or a proponent of chaos? Weigh in with your comments below. Extra points for comments written in structured verse.