Weekly Writing Memo: 3 Types of Plot

Posted: March 2, 2016 | Author: Author the World | Filed under: Fiction, Stories, Uncategorized, Weekly Writing Memo, Writing, Writing Tips | Tags: Books, Creative Fiction, Fiction, Writing | 4 Comments

In previous posts we’ve talked about minor issues such as 5 ways to Increase Tension, as well as whether your characters need to be Likable or Relatable. In this post we’re going to focus on a larger concept of story—the three types of plot. Every story should really have multiple levels of plot going on, and in general there are three types of plot that should be in most stories for them to have depth, and enough content to be fulfilling.

The Grand Plot

The Grand Plot is the larger plot that is the overarching conflict of the story. This can be anything, really, as long as it is grand enough to run the length of the story. In a series, it can be the larger plot that spans the series, or in a single movie or novel, it’s the larger plot that is the focus of that one story.

For example, if you look at The Hunger Games, the Grand Plot in the first book is whether Katniss Everdeen will survive the games. As a series, however, the Grand Plot is about the fall of the Capital and President Snow.

Essentially the Grand Plot has to be something that has enough conflict to sustain the entire film or novel. It can be made up of a bunch of smaller conflicts, such as Katniss having smaller battles to face during the games (other players, poison berries, beasts, etc), but it essentially boils down to one thing (in The Hunger Games, it is survival).

When choosing a Grand Plot for your story, ask yourself what kinds of problems your protagonist could run into while pursuing a solution to that plot. If you can only think of one or two, then it is probably not a good Grand Plot. Returning to The Hunger Games example, Katniss has to face Capital politics, she has to face her urge to sacrifice herself for Peeta, she faces other tributes, and dangerous wildlife, and more. Those are all minor conflicts that arise during her pursuit of the Grand Plot, so there is plenty of conflict. If, however, The Hunger Games was just about Katniss being locked in a room and having to survive with no external factors, there probably wouldn’t be enough conflict to sustain a story and there would need to be a different Grand Plot. The Grand Plot has to be a big enough goal for there to be an entire story (novel or film) written about it.

The Personal Plot

While the Grand Plot is something that is the overarching plot for a larger story, the personal plot is a plotline that may or may not last the entire main story. It is something that has meaning for the protagonist in some way, and is often the motivator for the protagonist to pursue the Grand Plot.

For example, if you look at the first Die Hard movie. The Grand Plot is that Bruce Willis has to stop the terrorists who are holding his wife’s office building hostage. The Personal Plot, however is what motivates Bruce Willis to take action beyond his sense of justice—his desire to protect his wife. The movie Taken with Liam Neeson has a similar plot makeup. The Grand Plot of the movie is really taking down this trafficking ring, however the Personal Plot is Liam saving his daughter.

The Personal Plot usually links up with the Grand Plot in some way, and in general, once the protagonist pursues the Personal Plot, they end up going a step further and achieving the Grand Plot. For example, as a series, the Grand Plot in The Hunger Games is the destruction of President Snow and the Capital. The Personal Plot for the series is Katniss surviving and protecting those she cares about. On a smaller scale, in the first book the Grand Plot is Katniss surviving the games, while her Personal Plot is still protecting those she loves (Peeta and Prim).

The key to writing the Personal Plot is that it has to be the thing that makes your protagonist want to act. It is what makes the goal personal for your protagonist, and it is the thing that keeps them from giving up because they have a personal investment in succeeding. If Katniss didn’t want to protect those she loved, she could have just given up and died in the games, instead she HAD to survive in order to make sure Peeta made it.

The Grand Plot and the Personal Plot will most likely overlap, but the Grand Plot is always at least one step bigger than the Personal Plot. Like in Die Hard, saving his wife is the first step for Bruce, while saving everyone else is the next. In The Hunger Games, saving herself and those she loves is the first step for Katniss, and taking down the Capital and President Snow in order to save their society as whole is the next. By doing one thing (saving the one they love), the protagonist is spiraled into doing the bigger thing (saving everyone) because they realize that only saving the one they love is not enough.

Secondary Plot

Secondary Plot are the little plot arcs that pop up while the protagonist is pursuing the Grand Plot. For example, in John Wick when the assassin chick is hired to kill him, she is a secondary plot—a small problem along the way to him achieving his goal. Often times these Secondary Plots involve a problem of a secondary character. In The Hunger Games, the Secondary Plot often comes from Peeta. When he is injured and ill during the games, Katniss having to figure out a way to help him is a Secondary Plot.

There can be many, many layers of Secondary Plot within a story, and it all depends on how many characters there are and how long it takes the protagonist to complete the Grand Plot. The simpler your Grand Plot is, the more Secondary Plot you will probably need. For example, The Lord of the Rings has a pretty simple Grand Plot—deliver the ring to Mordor and destroy it. Much of the rest of the story is all Secondary Plot that arises through the secondary characters.

For example, conflicts with people trying to steal the ring from Frodo, such as Boromir or Gollum, are all Secondary Plot. These Secondary Plots often are roadblocks for the protagonist on the way to solving the Grand Plot, because they force the protagonist to stop and solve another problem before they can continue on their journey to solving the big problem. Often times these Secondary Plots serve as learning moments for the protagonist so that they can learn what they need in order to succeed at the Grand Plot. When Boromir tries to steal the ring, Frodo learns that he has to go out on his own and cannot rely on the safety of the group to help him achieve his mission.

These kinds of moments are minor, but they are the things that continue to propel the protagonist into action and renew their vigor to achieve the Grand Plot. They can be anything from minor stepping stones on the road to the Grand Plot, to major side arcs for the story—such as Aragorn becoming King in Lord of the Rings.

When figuring out the Grand Plot for a story, always ask yourself: What kind of problems your protagonist will run into along the way? How will secondary and tertiary characters be effected? What will they need from the protagonist? What does your protagonist need to learn in order to succeed at the Grand Plot? Once you know these answers, you know what kinds of Secondary Plots to add to your story that will seem natural, as well as have purpose.

Final Notes:

The different layers of plot have different purpose, but they are all important in story. The Grand Plot is the big problem to be solved, so to speak. The Personal Plot is what motivates your protagonist to solve the big problem, and the Secondary Plot is the little conflicts that your protagonist has to overcome along the way and learn from. Without all three elements, your story can feel like it is light on depth and conflict.

The important thing is that all of the plot elements should tie together in some way and influence each other. Don’t have a random side plot where your character stops their big goal and goes to save a cat or something. Everything should be connected and serve a purpose, so whenever you have your character do something, make sure you have the larger plot in mind and can answer the question “what is the purpose of this?”

Later this week I’ll be doing a post on my blog (Author the World) about plotting specifically in Horror stories, so if you’re interested make sure to stop by and check it out.

Pride and Prejudice and Zombies: Classic Meets Monsters

Posted: February 26, 2016 | Author: Author the World | Filed under: Book Review, Commentary, Opinion, Uncategorized | Tags: Books, Movie Review, Writing | 1 Comment

PPZ Combined

Pride and Prejudice and Zombies (PPZ) takes a classic piece of literature and gives it a modern horror twist by adding zombies to the story. While the 2016 movie is based on the 2009 book written by Jane Austen and Seth Grahame-Smith, the result is an entirely different thing.

The book plot is essentially the same as the original Pride and Prejudice. The Bennett sisters are single women in want of husbands, and their mother is determined to find them each one. When the eldest sister, Jane, meets the well-to-do Mr. Bingley, she’s immediately smitten and so is he. The sparks between Jane’s sister, Elizabeth, and Bingley’s friend, Mr. Darcy, however, are not of the same sort. Elizabeth and Darcy go through a series of verbal sparring matches, letting their pride and prejudice get in the way of their chance at love.

Seth Grahame-Smith’s book edition adds zombies in the mix, and turns the Bennett sisters into skilled fighters. There are other minor changes, like at one point a verbal sparring match between Darcy and Elizabeth is turned into a physical fighting match, but overall the story of the PPZ book is much the same as the original novel there are just zombies in the world.

The PPZ movie, however, did what I wish the book had. The zombies become a crucial part of the story rather than just a world detail and minor complication. The premise for the PPZ movie is that zombies have taken over much of England except for a barricaded safe zone. Darcy is a Colonel in the war against the zombies, and a skilled fighter. The Bennett sisters have all been trained in Chinese martial arts and sword fighting, and are skilled fighters themselves. The fight against the zombies, and their growing numbers, is much more central to the plot of the movie and I think it works better than the zombie element in the book. The romantic plot of the movie follows much the same plot as the original book, with the exception of Wickham and Lydia.

I think the book PPZ is enjoyable because it’s essentially Pride and Prejudice just with the added elements of zombies. That being said, I found it annoying that the zombie element was not integrated into the plot more and that it seemed frivolous. I dislike things that aren’t essential to the story being thrown in. The PPZ movie, however, fixed that for me and did it in a way I enjoyed. The zombies aren’t just your typical walking dead, they’re an actively malevolent threat that leaves potential for a sequel. However, the movie did have issues of its own. If you can make it past the first thirty minutes (more details of issues below the spoiler tag), things do settle out and end up in a fun story, but there are some things to overlook to get there.

Overall, it’s worth the watch if you enjoy both zombie movies and Pride and Prejudice. Just be prepared for a mix of genres, and don’t hang your expectations too strongly on this being your typical Pride and Prejudice remake. By the end, I was ready to watch the second one (if it ever gets made), even though the beginning falters.

MOVIE SPOILERS BELOW

The biggest issue in the movie is the first thirty minutes. It’s clear the writers struggled with how to start this version of the story because it’s kind of all over the place tonally.

Tonally, there are some awkward moments that just don’t quite sit right. For example, early on there is a strange sexualized moment with Darcy and a doctor who is checking him over. Which I understand is supposed to foreshadow the doctor is not good at his job and has let an infected person into the house, but it isn’t blended well into the story. Plus, later on there are several moments where the Bennett sisters are getting ready for the party at Mr. Bingley’s when they are arming themselves that are also sexualized in the same odd way. While I didn’t mind that it was equal opportunity sexualization, it created a strange pause in the story and just didn’t blend smoothly. Then the sexual element would disappear and it’d feel like the storytelling shifted.

The tone problem continued early on when it came to humor as well. There were some great humorous moments – Matt Smith as Mr. Collins was wonderful – but they also weren’t blended in with the story well. They stuck out here and there like they were saying “this is supposed to be funny.” And while a lot of the moments were funny, they were also awkward at times and interrupted the story flow.

One moment specifically where I think it was meant to be humor but it just struck out for me, was when Darcy sees Elizabeth and the Bennett sisters fight the zombies at Mr. Bingley’s party. It goes from this big fight sequence to focusing on Darcy, and everything stops while he spouts this speech about Elizabeth and how he sees her differently now. Then it goes back to the action. I interpreted it as intending to be funny, but it felt instead like they paused the action movie to have an “Austen moment” and then hit play again. Which, could have been funny, but it almost didn’t feel deliberate which turned it into an awkward moment.

Once the story got going, however, things definitely balanced out and I felt like I could orient myself better in the story. The first thirty minutes just had me confused as I tried to figure out what type of story I was watching. That being said, I feel safe in saying that this is not an easy to classify movie. It’s not quite horror, not quite romance, not quite comedy… It definitely has some fun action moments, but it also doesn’t follow the typical action lines. It’s truly a crossover movie, and once you accept that while watching it becomes easier to stay with it. You just have to make it through the beginning and let yourself accept it as something new.

Honestly, I think this is the sort of movie that would really benefit from a dual viewing. The first to get oriented in the method of storytelling and cross-genre elements, and the second so you can just sit back an enjoy.

If the beginning was fixed, this would easily be a 4-4.5 Star movie for me, but as it stands, I can only give it:

3.5 Stars

Weekly Writing Memo: Relatability or Likability?

Posted: February 24, 2016 | Author: Author the World | Filed under: Fiction, Uncategorized, Weekly Writing Memo, Writing, Writing Tips | Tags: Creative Fiction, Fiction, Writing | 3 Comments

Weekly Writing Memo Everyone has a different idea of what is crucial for a story to succeed. Some people declare that the protagonist has to be likable, while others say that the protagonist just has to be relatable. Many people think a protagonist has to be likable because why else would an audience care about the story, but there are a lot of unlikable protagonist out there who have successful stories (American History X, The Social Network, Wolf of Wall Street). Because of this, many people believe that a protagonist doesn’t have to be likable, they just have to have something about them that an audience can relate to. Even that seems like a stretch, however, because there isn’t any way to guarantee that you will give your protagonist a relatable trait.

Personally, I think there is a third option, and that is to simply focus on making your protagonist understandable. If your audience can understand where you protagonist is coming from, and why they do what they will do, then whether they like the protagonist or not, and whether they relate or not, they will be able to follow the story and understand it.

If the audience can understand your character and their decisions, then they can connect with the story and enjoy it as if they are going on a journey with the character. Yes, likability and relatability help the audience connect more, but when you have a character that doesn’t allow for those things your story can still work as long as the character is understandable.

So how do you do these things? How do you make a character understandable, likable, and relatable? All audiences aren’t the same, but there are several general ways to accomplish these three things.

Understandable Characters:

Define the character.

I don’t mean write a definition of them, but I do mean show the audience who they are. Give the character a defining moment where their true personality comes out. Are they the person who runs when they see trouble, or do they jump to help without a thought for their own safety? The first step to making a character understandable is to show the audience who they are.

Explain why.

Why is your character the way they are? If that isn’t pertinent to the story, or maybe you can’t find an interesting way to show it, then tell us why the character does what they do. Find a way to show these things and it is another step in making the character believable, and understandable for the audience. At the very least, you as the writer should always know why the character does what they do so you can use it as motivation for your character’s behavior.

Justify.

Whenever your character is doing something that is abnormal, justify it. Don’t just write it and pretend the audience won’t notice. Instead, find a way to explain why they are doing it. In screenwriting there is a term called “Hang a Lantern on it” which means to call attention to the thing that is not normal or when something is cliché. If the audience is going to stop and question it, then have the character stop and question it and justify why it is happening that way. This is a method for cutting off the doubt before the audience can experience it, and it helps with making the plot and character understandable.

Likable Characters:

This is a more generic category, but there are several different characters traits that consistently make for likable and interesting protagonists.

A good person, or trying to be.

A character who is a good person is generally likable. They’re kind, do nice things, and aren’t selfish. That being said, they can’t be self-righteous about it. If the character isn’t necessarily a good person, but is trying to be, that also makes them likable.

Extremely talented or gifted people.

People in general like talented people. Even if they’re jerks, people respect talent and are drawn to it. So a talented character can be very likable. If they’re too much a jerk it can eventually override the likability factor, but for the most part, characters with extreme skills are likable.

Funny characters.

People like funny people. It’s as simple as that. Of course there are humorous people that aren’t likable, but as protagonists they make for characters you want to follow to see what funny thing they’ll do next. It also helps that the audience doesn’t have to interact with the character directly, so any mean humor is not directed at the audience and is simply something the audience can enjoy from the outside. A lot of times these funny characters that are jerks are likable because they are saying the mean things a lot of people think, but never say out loud.

Relatable Characters:

Make them do something mundane.

There are all sorts of mundane things that everyone does – brush their teeth, drive a car, go to work, watch TV, eat, etc. They’re the kinds of things that are just a fact of life, and making your character have to do them is a simple way to give the audience something to connect to. The only problem is, it isn’t generally interesting unless it is an extraordinary character who is forced to do the ordinary thing – such as a superhero doing laundry.

Give them a bad habit.

Everyone has bad habits, and there are some habits that are more popular than others that are an easy way to give a character something relatable (nail biting). If you give your character a bad habit, it’s a flaw that the audience can connect to, and it is something that humanizes them.

Give them family.

Everyone has some form of family, and almost everyone can relate to an embarrassing family moment. A mother who is over affectionate, a father who yells at the TV, a brother who tells his friends embarrassing things about you, etc. If you give your protagonist a family that they have to interact with, it not only creates a deeper character, but it also creates something that an audience can maybe relate to.

Final Notes:

Whether you decide likability, relatability, or being understandable is the most important thing, there are a lot of ways to achieve your goal. Decide what you think is important to a story, and what you find most appealing about the stories you read or watch, and go with that. Whichever you decide, the key is paying attention to the little details. Remember the how, and the why, and the everyday things that your character does, and make sure they are given careful attention when being written so that they are used to make your character better.

For more information on creating better characters, check out my blog on Author the World titled “5 Tips for Establishing Character”.

You can also check out last week’s Memo where we discussed “5 Ways to Increase Tension in Story“, as this connects to the discussion of what makes a story interesting.

Weekly Writing Memo: 5 Ways to Increase Tension in Story

Posted: February 17, 2016 | Author: Author the World | Filed under: Fiction, Stories, Uncategorized, Weekly Writing Memo, Writing, Writing Tips | Tags: Creative Fiction, Fiction, Writing | 4 Comments

In last week’s WWM we talked about how to use feedback to fix your story Weekly Writing Memo and the ways you can get the most from a critique. This week we’re focusing in on how to fix a lack of tension in a story, as it is one of the most common issues I come across when beta reading. Tension, by definition, involves two opposing forces holding something taut between them, such as two hands pulling ends of a rubber band in opposite directions.

In fiction, tension can be seen when the protagonist is facing an opposing force that is preventing him/her from getting what he/she wants. Essentially, tension in stories comes down to conflict. That conflict can come from three main places: the protagonist vs their own mental issues (self), the protagonist vs other characters (including animals), or the protagonist vs the setting. The conflict comes when the protagonist wants something, and the opposing force prevents them from getting it.

For example, when the opposing force is the protagonist’s self, then it could be something like anxiety or disease that prevents the protagonist from getting what they want such as in Girl, Interrupted. All of the characters in the institute want to be free and maybe even normal, but their individual mental issues prevent them from successfully reintegrating into society.

When there is a problem in tension a story can feel slow, boring, too easy, or even unbelievable. The method to fix it can vary depending on the story you’re writing, but there are several almost universal ways to fix tension in a story.

Cut scenes with no conflict.

Anytime you have a scene where your protagonist gets everything they want, or is just going through the motions, then you have a scene where there is no conflict or tension. This may work out for the ending of a story, or even the beginning if the point is to show your protagonist before their world is upturned, but it doesn’t generally work in the middle. So if you don’t have an unfulfilled want, if there is no conflict, you could probably cut the scene out altogether.

Figure out what your protagonist wants, and then refuse to give it to them.

What drives stories forward is a protagonist who is seeking something, and figuring out how to get it. Even in dialogue scenes your protagonist should have to work for what they want. Sometimes, even when your character gets what they want, it doesn’t solve their problem so it creates new wants and conflicts. This idea of what your protagonist wants should drive every scene of the story, and your protagonist struggling to get it should continue until the very end.

Whenever possible, up the stakes for your protagonist.

A very common phrase you’ll her in writing is “what are the stakes?” The stakes are what your character is risking to get what they want, and a surefire way to increase tension in the story is to up the risk involved in your protagonist’s pursuits. Say he wants to buy a casino, but he has to put his life savings on the line in order to afford it. That’s a big thing, but it could be bigger if he was a family man with six kids to feed and care for. The more that is at risk for the protagonist, the more risk the pursuit of their want has, the more tension in the story.

Add different layers of conflict.

You don’t have to use only one type of conflict at a time. By using variety you can add to the tension within the story without making your plot get unbelievable. For example, if you give your character an internal conflict – such as a fear of growing old – as well as an external conflict – his wife is leaving him – it creates two possible sources of tension. The internal one that affects everything the character does, and the external one that he has to solve. You don’t want to go crazy adding layers upon layers upon layers of conflict and drama, but you can use several layers to create more tension.

Cue in the audience.

If you don’t want to add more conflict directly to your character’s story, you can add conflict by cuing in the audience to a conflict that is unknown to the protagonist. For example, if your character is afraid he’s going to lose his job you have a basic conflict. It works, and it is tense because something is at stake for the character.

However, if you wanted more conflict to the story you could show the audience that the company has already planned to fire everyone, including the protagonist. That could create more tension for the audience because they are waiting to see the protagonist’s reaction, as well as what he/she will do when faced with the news.

This method of tension is also often used in horror movies when the audience can see what the bad guy is doing while the protagonist cannot. It creates a sense of impending doom.

Final Notes:

They key to understanding tension is to remember that it doesn’t come from dangerous situations, though it can, but instead it comes from the audience seeing the protagonist not getting what they want and wondering how, or if, the protagonist will succeed in the end. So whenever you feel that your story may be going slow, or lacking tension, ask yourself what your protagonist wants, and find a way to refuse letting them have it.

Weekly Writing Memo: Using Feedback to Improve Your Story

Posted: February 11, 2016 | Author: Author the World | Filed under: Fiction, Stories, Uncategorized, Weekly Writing Memo, Writing, Writing Tips | Tags: Creative Fiction, Feedback, Fiction, Tips, Writing | 3 Comments

Weekly Writing Memo

In last week’s Weekly Writing Memo I discussed my method for giving feedback. This week, Kaye and I are teaming up to discuss what to do with feedback when you’re on the receiving end. We thought it’d be a great idea to do this one together so we could show two opinions for dealing with critiques.

As writers we tend to be very close to our writing and have trouble seeing it objectively; it’s important to get an outsider’s perspective to see how your writing is being read. That being said, hearing criticism of work you’ve put your heart into can be incredibly hard, but there are methods to dealing with it in a useful way.

What is your method for using a critique?

Robin: When I get a critique I basically have a four step process I go through.

I read it start to finish. No stopping to vent or obsess, no tears, no anger. I just read. It’s important to take all the info in without letting yourself get too emotional about it. If you do get emotional, it’ll be harder to process whether the info is helpful.

I walk away and let it sit. The initial response to feedback, especially bad feedback, can be overwhelming. Whatever emotions it brought up, I let them out for a bit and then give myself time to let them fade until I feel I can rationally return to the feedback and really look for the truth in it.

Read it again, item by item, and consider, try, and analyze. Once I’ve cooled my heels some, I return to the notes and reread them, slowly this time going item-by-item. As I look at each comment, I HAVE to consider each item as being true. Then I look at my work and try to prove the feedback right or wrong. If I can’t prove it wrong in at least several ways, then there may be some partial truth, if not complete truth, to the critique. I do this extra for things I think are 100% wrong to make sure that I’m not just too close to the work.

Use, refuse, revise, and ask questions. Finally, once I’ve considered everything, I go through and revise with what I want to use, and ignore what I’m “refusing”. I also will go back and ask the critic questions on any feedback I need clarity on once I’ve carefully considered it, that way I know what specifically I need to ask.

Kaye: I’m not nearly as methodical as Robin is. But then again, I’m kind of weird about my writing process. For starters, I ask for and await eagerly any feedback I can get. I look at any negative feedback as a window into things that can be improved, and there’s always room for improvement. Always.

So, my process goes more like this – I read through the whole thing, but I pull it up side-by-side with my manuscript, making changes to the original document as I go. If I come to a comment I don’t understand, don’t think I agree with, or I’m not quite sure what to do to fix it, I highlight the comment in the feedback, so I’ll know to go back to it later.

And I do go back to them, once I’ve done all the quick fixes I can. That’s when I take the time to ponder those I don’t understand or disagree with, and decide what I want to do about them. Some I work out clever ways to fix the problem, and some, I may not do anything about.

What do you do if you disagree with the feedback?

Robin: This one can be hard. If the feedback is something I think is completely wrong and I can’t understand it, then I ask questions. The important thing is to ask those questions in the least defensive, and least confrontational way possible. The person did you a favor giving you feedback, so don’t attack, ask for clarity.

For example, I’d ask: “Can you explain more about this specific comment and give me some examples of where you see that?” That way I can maybe get a better idea of what the critic is thinking, and where I need to be looking.

If the feedback is something I think will never be right, and I’m positive that I’ve considered it as many ways I can, then I ignore it. There really isn’t much else you can do. If you disagree, and you can’t see things from their perspective, then ultimately it’s your writing and you get to decide what feedback you use or don’t.

Kaye: I welcome feedback, but that doesn’t mean I agree with every comment I get. As writers, we often become attached to our creations, and sometimes it’s difficult to believe that others find flaw with our masterpieces. I’m no different. I pour my heart and soul into my writing. It’s not easy to separate myself from my work, but I think that’s what we have to do. Always remember that all criticism is about the writing and not the writer. We can’t take it personal, even though it may feel like our creations are a part of ourselves.

What do you use from the feedback?

Robin: I use feedback as a sounding board. I’m not looking for critiques to tell me HOW to fix it, I’m just looking for them to point me at what may or may not be wrong. In general, everyone who reads your work will probably have a different idea of how to fix something anyway, and many of the suggestions won’t be right for YOUR story because they’re suggestion how THEY would fix it. So I focus in on where the critique is pointing, or how they are interpreting things, and then I figure out how I would fix it in my own way.

For example, if someone says “This passage feels slow. I think it’s because this character is boring. I’d cut them.”

I would interpret that advice as meaning “something is wrong with this scene, it feels uninteresting.” Then I’d look at the scene and try to figure out where it goes wrong. Is the character really boring, or just inactive? Is the scene even necessary to the plot, or just filler? I look at the larger idea of the feedback, rather than the specifics. Sometimes I come to the same conclusion as the critique, and sometimes not.

Kaye: I believe there’s a grain of truth to everything. The trick is to pick it out. I always try to find those little granules when I disagree, because I’ve learned that most of the time, it’s there, and if I can find it and make appropriate changes, my story will be better for it. I choose my alpha readers carefully, and I’ve learned that their comments are usually pretty spot on.

Like Robin, I don’t always use their suggested fixes, but their comments let me know where I should be looking for something that’s off and then, I can determine for myself what it is that’s wrong and how I want to fix it. But again, my alpha readers often come up with some really good suggestions, and I use them whenever I can. Seldom do I totally discard a suggestion unless it’s obviously something the reader just doesn’t get. But if my reader isn’t getting it, then that tells me I’m doing something wrong or they would get it. Chances are, if my alpha reader doesn’t get it, my target audience won’t get it either.

What if you don’t know how to fix it?

Robin: A lot of times if someone gives me feedback that I don’t know how to fix, it’s because I don’t know what the real problem is. So, of course, I ask questions until I have a better understanding. Then I try to come up with a few possible solutions.

I will also sometimes talk with the critic about the changes I’m debating to get their perspective on whether it’ll fix things, or I’ll try the fix and then give it to someone else and see if I get the same critique. It’s really just a matter of trial and error if you can’t figure out a specific solution. After that, all you can do is take some time away from it and revise other things and hope when you come back with fresh eyes you’ll figure it out.

Kaye: It’s kind of funny, but I’ve learned a lot about fixing my fiction from my screenwriting classes. One thing I’ve learned is that if you can’t find a way to fix a problem, sometimes you have to look to see a change somewhere else in the writing that will fix the problem scene and make it all work. I guess you have to think outside the box, or beyond the page.

After looking at a problem from every angle, if I still can’t find a way to fix it, then I consult with the reader that pointed out the issue to see if they also have suggestions on how it might be fixed. If that doesn’t work, I can always throw it out to the members of my writers group and we can brainstorm it. Helpful suggestions seldom fail to materialize from these sessions.

Final Thoughts:

Kaye: To me, critiques are a writing tool, enlisting another set of eyes to see what I can’t because I’m too close to the work. When utilizing this tool, I try and take advantage of each and every comment that I can. After all, if I didn’t think they were intelligent and talented, I wouldn’t ask them to be my alpha readers. But the important thing to remember is not to take negative feedback personal, its about the writing, and being open to feedback is what makes your writing better.

Robin: Overall, the important thing for me when looking at critiques is to consider each element carefully and thoroughly. The whole point is to get an outsider’s perspective, so if I don’t consider it seriously, it’s a waste of everyone’s time. If I can fix what they see, I do, and if I can’t or think they’re wrong, I don’t. That being said, if multiple people say the same thing is wrong, then it’s most likely wrong and you need to do something about it, whether you like it or not.

Ultimately, remember the point of a critique is to tell you how your writing is being read, and whether the critic is wrong or right, someone somewhere will probably agree with them. So fix what you can, let go what you can’t, and do your best to be critical of your work no matter how much you love it.

Weekly Writing Memo: Robin’s Guide to Critiquing

Posted: February 3, 2016 | Author: Author the World | Filed under: Fiction, Stories, Weekly Writing Memo, Writing, Writing Tips | Tags: Critiques, Critiquing, Feedback, Fiction, Screenwriting, Weekly Writing Memo, Writing | 3 Comments

As Kaye mentioned in her blogpost “The 2016 Writing to Be Read,” I am Robin, I’m a writer, and I run the Author the World blog. I will be doing a “Weekly Writing Memo” on Wednesdays each week on Writing to Be Read that will consist of writing tips, tricks, and Q&As. So feel free to post questions in the comment section, tweet me, or e-mail me at: AuthorTheWorld (at) Gmail (dot) Com.

This week’s memo will deal with one of my specialties, critiquing. I spend a lot of time working as either a Beta or Alpha reader for people’s fiction and screenwriting, and honestly if I’m not writing myself it’s my next favorite thing to do.

Over the years between working with other writers and being in workshop settings, I’ve found that many people really struggle with giving critiques. When looking at a manuscript of any kind, it can be overwhelming to figure out where to start with feedback, to decide what is and isn’t important, and what is and isn’t helpful. So here is the way I approach feedback that seems to have the most success in helping other writers improve their work.

What Makes a Good Critique?

Before you can write a good critique, you have to know what one is. A good critique usually involves these five things:

It’s detailed and says more than just “I liked it” or “I didn’t.”
It’s objective, and minimizes the criticisms based on personal preference. (i.e., “I hate horror, so I don’t like this story.”)
It doesn’t try to write the story for the author.
It’s honest, but not mean.
It’s about the writing, not the writer.

These are my goals I keep in mind when I do a critique. As long as every comment I make about the story connects to all of these things it’s a good note to make. With that in mind, here is how I go about giving a critique from first being asked, to the sending it back to the writer.

Ask What the Writer Expects.

In my experience, every writer has different expectations when they ask for a critique. Some really just want line edits. Others want you to tear their story apart. So the first thing I do whenever I offer to read for someone, is to ask how detailed they want me to be and what they are looking for.

Ask What Stage the Project is in.

I also ask what draft the project is in so I can get a feel for what stage the writing is at. A project in the first few drafts usually doesn’t need line edits yet because a lot will change along the way, so I focus on larger story issues (plot, character, tone, setting, etc). If it’s toward the final stage, then I will do line edits as well as larger issues.

This saves myself the trouble of marking things that may not be in the story later on, but also helps prevent shocking the writer. Early drafts will most likely have a lot of larger notes, as well as line notes if you do both at once, which can dismay a writer and overwhelm them.

Read Like it’s a Whodunit.

When reading for critiquing, you have to read like it’s a puzzle, not like it is entertainment. If you let yourself get sucked into the story, you stop paying attention to the faults. When I was little I used read those 2-minute Mystery books. The key to them is that you have to pay attention to every little detail and not get distracted.

I find that when I approach someone’s writing the same way, it helps me catch the little things—character mannerisms, minor plot details, foreshadowing, etc. Being able to catch these things early, lets me know what to expect in the story to come so I can make notes as to whether the story is meeting the expectations it is setting up or not.

The hardest part of critiquing, in my opinion, is staying in the critical mindset. It’s easy to get sucked into the characters, and the story, and to stop analyzing what is and isn’t working. By approaching the writing with the mindset that there is a puzzle to solve within it, it helps me keep analyzing it. At worst, if you feel yourself reading a lot and not analyzing, take a short break.

What to Mark?

The goal of an Alpha or Beta reader is to help the author see how an audience is reading the story, and to find issues the writer might be blind to. But how do you show this in comments? If you’re commenting on the line level, then of course you’re pointing out typos, grammar issues, and the like. If you’re commenting on content, then you have to put more thought into it.

Generally, I leave a comment when:

I am confused by something in the text.

I write HOW I’m confused. Is it because the character said one thing but did another? Is it because there was no foreshadowing? Is it because the language is confusing? Etc. The key is to EXPLAIN what it is that leads to the confusion and not to simply write that you’re confused.

I don’t believe something in the text.

I will write it’s unbelievable, but I will also write a line or two about WHY I don’t feel it is believable. Then I go an extra step and I tell the author HOW I think they could make me believe it. That way, if they want to stick with the idea, they know what it would take for me as a reader to believe. If I just think it isn’t ever believable, then I will offer 1 or 2 suggestions of similar things that I think would be believable not for the author to necessarily use, but to point them in the right direction.

I have a question.

Whenever a question pops into my head, I will usually make a comment to let the author know that, as a reader, this is what I’m wondering at this moment. That way if the text is leading me in a direction the author may not want, they are aware of it. For example, if the text mentions a brother and builds up suspense around him, I may mention this, that way if the brother is not a character that comes back the author can minimize the attention on him so I, as a reader, don’t have that question pop up.

I pause or feel bored.

Whenever you feel like stopping reading, ask yourself WHY. Are you bored? Is the passage slow? Is the character uninteresting? Has the plot not started? Etc. Then put a comment marking the passage and explaining WHY you are feeling that way. I also usually try to go back and pinpoint the moment the story stopped being interesting so I can mark it as well, and then I try to figure out which thread line (character, plot, setting, etc) it is that dropped out of the text so the writer knows what it is specifically that is missing. At the very least, though, always mark WHERE you feel bored and try to explain WHY.

Something is missing.

A character is forgotten, a plotline is not finished, a setting is not described, etc. Whenever I feel like something is missing, I explain WHAT, I explain WHY it matters, and I pinpoint WHERE it first begins to be missing.

Ask Questions.

The other big thing to consider when commenting is how you are interpreting things vs. how the writer intended them. Whenever I think something I am commenting on could be something that is not what the writer intended, I make a note about that says something along the lines of:

“I’m interpreting this part this way, but I think you mean it this way. Here’s why I interpreted it the way I did and here’s what you should change if you mean it the other way.”

That way the author can see what and where there is a mix up.

Final Notes.

The key to all of the above is basically SPECIFICITY. Feedback is only helpful if you can be specific about what it is that you think is wrong. Ask yourself WHY do I feel this is wrong, HOW it is wrong, and WHERE it is wrong. Now sometimes you don’t know what is wrong or just can’t figure it out, but you do know something is wrong.

It’s perfectly valid to just leave that as a comment, but still try to give some specifics about what FEELS wrong. Tell them it feels slow, or boring (in kinder words if possible), but describe something so the author has an idea of where to look for the problem. At the very least, it’ll give them a specific passage to get a second opinion on.

The important thing to remember is that all feedback is opinion. Everyone can read the same story and come up with a different idea of what is wrong and how to fix it. So when you’re giving notes, try to keep things as objective as you can. If you know something you’re commenting on is just your preference, I always explicitly say that in the feedback and then explain WHY I prefer it that way. Then the author can decide if your preference is one they want to use or not.

Lastly, when you give feedback always expect that the writer may not use any of it. It seems like a defeatist thing to say, but writers (myself included) have their own idea of what works and what doesn’t and what they want in their story. Just know that in going through the process of analyzing the work and forcing yourself to think critically to explain how you feel about it, you are helping your own writing. Every time I give feedback, I feel like I can approach my own work more analytically, and like I am more prone to finding my own errors.

You won’t catch everything, no one can, but be honest, be specific, and remember it’s not about the writer it’s about the writing. Everything you comment should be about making the story better and helping the writer tell the story THEY want to tell, not what YOU think the story should be about. If you can keep that in mind your feedback will be helpful, it’s just up to the writer on whether they want to use it or not.

Time Flies

Posted: January 12, 2014 | Author: kayelynnebooth | Filed under: Fantasy, Fiction, Mystery, Western, Writing | Tags: Books, Fantasy, Fiction, mystery, New Year, Western, Writing | Leave a comment

Wow! It’s 2014 and I just realized how long it’s been since I published here, I’ve been busy earning my degree, along with the many other demands that life places on all of us. But hard work and dedication pays off. In fact, since I began the MFA program at Western State Colorado University, I’ve produced rough drafts for two novels, which I’m now working on revising. The first is a western, Delilah, and the second is a middle grade mystery, The Adventures of Ann and Kinzi. I’m currently working on a mythological fiction/fantasy/science fiction novel, with the working title, A Playground for the Gods, which I’m considering using as my thesis.

Delilah is a tough young woman who grew up on the Colorado frontier. On her way home to the San Luis Valley, she’s brutally raped and left for dead, sending her on a quest for vengeance. Her hunt for her tormentors leads her to the Colorado mining town of Leadville, where the colorful inhabitants work their way into Delilah’s heart and give her hope for a future she’d thought lost along with her innocence. Now she must stay alive and protect her new-found friends as she faces the many dangers of the western wilderness and the outlaw elements of the growing new Colorado territory.

The Adventures of Ann and Kinzi is the story of two young girls growing up during the depression. Their shared love of animals and the fact that they’ve both lost their mothers are the common ground on which cements their friendship. When strange things start happening at the McViddie farm, where they care for the horses, and one of their classmates disappears, Ann and Kinzi set out to solve the mystery and save their friend, but they must do it without being caught by the kidnapper themselves.

In A Playground for the Gods, Inanna is the goddess of love and war on a quest to save humanity. The foolish judgement of men and their misuse of the technology the gods have provided have brought them to the brink of self-destruction and convinced the gods that humanity is not ready to receive the secrets of long life and powers that would make them godlike. They’re preparing to find a new planet on which they hope to find a new species to bestow their gifts upon. Inanna must prove that humans are worthy of their godly gifts, and convince them not to leave humanity in such a mess.

That’s it. That’s my excuse for neglecting this Writing to be Read blog. Now all I can do is ask forgiveness from my readers and offer the promise that if they stick with me, I promise to blog on a regular basis in the coming year. I don’t foresee that I will abandon novel-writing, but I do plan to try to organize my time better, so I’ll be able to commit to at least two or three posts a month. I hope you will all join me for the journey.

I’d also welcome any feedback on which of the above stories capture your interest and why. Comments are always appreciated.

How writing is like building a storage shed

Posted: March 24, 2013 | Author: kayelynnebooth | Filed under: Fiction, Memoir, Mystery, Writing | Tags: building a shed, Fears, Memoir, Writing | 3 Comments

My husband asked me to help him build a storage shed and I agreed to the task. How hard could it be, right? Except that I am not a carpenter, and I was committing time away from my writing. Well, that’s not true either. I’m never very far from my writing. I’m always thinking about my writing in my head, even when I’m physically occupied with other tasks. So, although I was out hammering nails, my thoughts kept straying to how building this shed related to the YA mystery I am working on for my Genres II class.
The good solid twang you hear when you hit the nail head on reminds me of the feeling I get when I find an element the story is missing and added it in, knowing I’ve nailed it, (pun intended). But more often, I don’t get that direct hit, the story elements shooting off pell-mell into the forest, like the nails that I miss, or curling up like the nails that hit knots and won’t be driven forward, and I have to keep going at it from different angles until I am able to drive it home.
The story is sort of along the tradition of the Nancy Drew mysteries, with two young girls, growing up in the 1940’s as the protagonists. The story is three-quarters of the way finished, but I keep second guessing myself on what it is lacking. As I begin to pound nails into a new wall, I notice that I am starting on one side, with the intent to work my way to the other, yet I begin halfway up from the bottom corner. I wonder why I chose to start where I did, and it occurs to me just how many different places there are to begin on this wall, just as there is in my story. There is no hard and fast rule that a story has to start at the beginning, just as there’s no law that says you must start nailing a wall from the top right hand corner. With the wall, where I begin won’t really make a lot of difference in the end, but with my story it might. I toy with the idea of changing the point where I begin the story until I’m abruptly brought back to the here and now by the throbbing in my thumb after I missed the nail and hit it with the hammer. All these thought about writing are very distracting, which isn’t necessarily a good thing.
I’m afraid of heights. It’s a fear I’ve been dealing with for the past thirty years. I believe the official term is acrophobia, from the Greek words that combine “summit”, “edge” or “peak” and the word meaning “fear”. Merriam Webster’s Dictionary defines it as an “abnormal dread of being in a high place”, although I’m not sure I would define it as abnormal. I like to think of it as a healthy fear of potentially dangerous situations. That being said, I am a firm believer in meeting my fears head on and overcoming them. I have forced myself to face this one on many occasions, yet it still keeps rearing its ugly head to challenge me.
When I agreed to help with this project, I knew that at some point I would be required to climb a ladder to help with the roof, but we weren’t to that point yet, so his request that I climb up and slid across the ladder he had positioned across the top, extending from one side of the building to the other to nail in a small board caught me by surprise. I had gone for four solid hours and was tired when I started out this morning, and I couldn’t muster the energy to fight off my fear. Instead something inside my brain just mentally snapped.
“Oh, no. Oh, no,no,no,” I said even as I picked up my hammer and nails and began to climb the ladder with tears streaming down my face.
“What? Just climb up there and pound in a couple of nails. What’s so hard about that?” my husband asked, absorbed in whatever he was working on and not really paying attention to my reaction.
“I’m going,” I said.
There must have been something in my voice that made him look up and take notice. “Are you crying?” he asked. “Really?” He was puzzled by my reaction because I usually just buckle down and do what needs doing in situations like this, without making a big deal of it.
I swung my legs over the vertical ladder and slid my butt across it. “No, I’m fine,” I said, hammering in two nails as quickly as I could. When I turned to slide back the way I had come, my body didn’t move. I was temporarily frozen. I’d had this happen before when I climbed out under a large cement bridge that spanned the Colorado River to get pictures of my party of rafters, so I knew eventually my body would respond to my minds commands to move, once I got control of my fear, but knowing that made the experience no less terrifying for the moment.
“Wait, I’ll get a picture of you up there,” my husband offered.
“No!” I said.
“It’s okay,” he replied. “You look good up there. Just stop crying a minute and look up at the camera.”
Having my picture taken was the last thing I wanted at that moment, but as I was stuck for the moment, there was nothing to do about it. So, I wiped the tears from my face and resolved myself to the fact that I would have a photo to capture the moment. My eyes remained glued to the top of the front wall however, because every time I tried to look down at him with the camera, I felt my fear rise once more.
“Oh, you decided to come down,” he said, as I finally emerged from the opening that would be the door. He had gone about his business, allowing me time to gather my courage and get myself down from above. “I thought maybe you were going to make a nest up there.”
Now, with my feet firmly planted on the ground, his statement made me realize what a great opportunity I had missed because of my dumb fear and it made me angry. There I was, sitting with a bird’s eye view of the forest around me and I hadn’t taken advantage of it. I’d been too scared to even notice.
That’s when I realized that I’ve been doing the same thing with my memoir. Writing the story of my son’s death and my own grief is a difficult task. There are many issues that the memories stir that I’m not sure I’m ready to deal with. I’ve been putting off doing the research for several sections for this very reason, because I didn’t want to rehash the pain that interviewing the people who knew my son would inevitably produce. My instructor at Western State, Barb Chepaitis, has emphasized that eventually I must face these memories in order to portray the story honestly, and I suddenly realized how right she is. By putting off the necessary interviews because I fear the pain they will bring, I’m depriving myself of the full picture, just as I deprived myself of that high altitude view that would have allowed me to see the world a little differently. Eventually, I’m going to have to do them to present an honest portrayal of the story I need to tell, and by putting it off, I risk losing track of the key players. It’s already been four years since my son died. His friends have all gone on with their lives. They aren’t just hanging around waiting to be interviewed by me.
That night, I got on the computer and sent messages to several of the people who knew Mike, asking for their assistance. Already, I’m going to have to track down some that I no longer know how to contact. Once I have this part of the research done, I still won’t have a finished book, any more than pounding in those two nails produced a finished shed, but it will bring me one step closer to having all the material I will need to do the job.

It’s Not About Speed

Posted: March 2, 2013 | Author: kayelynnebooth | Filed under: Writing | Tags: Writing, writing advice, Writing Process | 7 Comments

I’ve heard a good average for writers is one book a year. For some of us aspiring writers, that seems like a break-neck pace. Then there are those that whip out a novel in a month’s time for NaNoWriMo each year, and there’s a girl in my class who participated in a 365 stories project where she wrote a story a day for a year. Many of us may not write that fast though. I’ve done NaNoWriMo twice unsuccessfully. Those who do finish may have something that resembles a novel, but it’s far from a polished manuscript. It’s good to be able to write fast if you’re writing to deadline or if you want to make a living as a novelist, producing one or more books per year. But the fact of the matter is, it’s not how fast you write that is important, as much as it is that what you write is good, quality writing.
What is important, my instructors at Western State will tell you, is that you find a writing speed that is comfortable for you, that allows you to produce quality writing and set your own pace. I’ve heard it suggested that if you write three hundred words a day, which probably adds up to a couple of hours on slow days, you can complete a novel in a year, and supposedly, that’s a reasonable pace. That’s probably true, and it at least shows dedication, but some writers may find that even meeting that three hundred word per day mark is difficult at times. I know for me, if I have what I want to write, firmly planted in my head before I start, I can write a lot faster than that. But, if I start out with only a vague idea that I’m not sure how I want to express it, those three hundred words may come agonizingly slow, like pulling cactus needles from my derriere after not choosing my seat carefully on a long mountain hike.
I wrote the first draft of my first novel, Delilah, in six months, which I’m told is pretty good. I wrote between 600 and 1,000 words a day on the days I actively wrote. But honestly, I didn’t write on Delilah every single day of that six months. Many days I just worked out stuff in my head, figuring out what I wanted to write and how I would write it. It was a pace that worked for me. I didn’t feel I was pushing it too hard I sand I still produced some quality writing. I still have a lot of work to do on the rewrites, but it feels good to know I have a good solid base that can withstand some minor alterations or even major reconstruction if necessary.
Writers are human beings, and just as each and every one of us are unique individuals with different strengths and weaknesses, every writer has their own speed at which they write. Can someone else write a first draft faster than I did? Yes, my instructor, Barb Chepaitis, wrote a novel in a weekend. It probably took her longer to regain her sanity afterwards, than it did to write the story, but it is possible. She did it to see if she could. It’s not her normal writing speed, but she does write much faster than I do. Other writers struggle to get a first draft done in a year.
On the first day of class last summer, Barb asked us if we knew how many words we could write in an hour. Being beginning MFA students, most of us did not. She said it was important that we know how fast we write, but she didn’t say it was important that we write fast. Finding that comfortable rhythm where the story flows out without being forced is what produces good quality writing. It doesn’t matter if you only put down two hundred words a day, as long as they are good words. It’s not about speed. The story will always get told in its own time. It’s our job to our job as writers to make sure it’s told well.

A Closer Look at My Own Writing Process

Posted: January 6, 2013 | Author: kayelynnebooth | Filed under: Fiction, Writing | Tags: Delilah, Fiction, Writing, Writing Process | Leave a comment

Since I’ve been seeking my MFA through Western State University, my posts here have been dwindling. On top of my school work, I’ve been writing a western novel and I’m close to having it completed, but this also has put a strain the limits of my writing time, not to mention several curveballs that life has thrown at me recently. However, I’m learning some really neat things about my own writing process that can be shared here, so perhaps my readers will forgive me for slacking off a bit.
In my Craft & Practice I class, my instructor, Barbara Chepaitis, guided us in analyzing our own writing process and taught us about the different types of writing processes. This is a subject I’d never thought much about before. While some writing processes are very structured, with outlines and plot lines and story arcs, others are more organic, just letting the words flow to the page, and still others are somewhere in between. While I’ve done outlines for my nonfiction writing process, I’ve tended to be more organic in my fiction writing process. I just sit down and start writing and see what comes about.
That’s what I did with the western novel I’ve been diligently working on. Delilah started as a character driven story, when I was assigned to do a western excerpt for my class this summer. I created the character of Delilah for the excerpt and it built itself one scene at a time as the character showed me what happened next. It’s been a fun journey since trouble seems to have a way of finding Delilah, but as I neared the finish line, I needed to make sure that my plot and all of my sub-plots wrapped up neatly. I didn’t want to inadvertently leave any loose ends. So, I found it necessary to plot it out and take a look at my story arcs, one for the plot and one for each sub-plot, to make sure they all had a beginning, a middle and an end, and see how they interrelated with each other.
In doing this, I was surprised to see how many different story arcs my story actually has. After drawing out the main plotline, I drew a story arc in a different color for each of my different sub-plots and ended up with eight different story arcs, including the main arc. Every motivation or relationship that Delilah has, creates a different sub-plot with a story arc of its own. Like a good stew, where each separate ingredient mixes its own flavor into the pot to create that delicious stew taste, each separate story arc adds to the flavor of my story. Below is a picture of what I came out with.

This enabled me to see where things were missing and envision how it will all come together in the end. It has required me to revise some parts of my story, but I can see the value in doing this. The different colors represent the individual story arcs and the colored circles represent the plot points where each one begins and ends. The main story arc includes every plot point, while the sub-plots start at different plot points, further into the story and some end before the main story ends, while at least five of them are tied in together and conclude at the end, along with the main plot. This is what I think a good story should do, so I am pleased with the results. Now that I have discovered how it all ends, all that’s left to do is to write it.
My instructor, Barb did not try to tell us that one process was better than another and she encouraged us to explore different processes to see what worked for us and what didn’t. I’ve discovered that my process needs to be both structured and organic. I’ve never tried the structured approach to fiction before, so with my next novel, which is an action/adventure story, I’ve started with the plotting. In fact, I already have the main plot line of the major events drawn out. Although this story is based on a character, Betty Lou Dutton, that I created and used for two scenes in Barb’s class, this approach will be a basic reversal of my usual process. As I write, I may find that more story arcs need to be added, although I already know there will be at least four sub-plots, it will be interesting to see how well this turns out. Wish me luck. 