Articles
- Using Vices and Virtues to Create 3D Characters
- What To Do When Your Story Lacks Oomph: a case study
- Nine Ways to Write a Good Opening
- Dealing With Your Inner Critic
- Marianne interviewed on Sally Murphy’s blog
- How the Worry Tree came about
- How on earth do you get published?
- To Plume or Nom de Plume: twelve things to think about when taking a pen name
Using Vices and Virtues to Create 3D Characters
When I begin writing a story, one of the first things I do is jot down a list of the characters and assign each of them a core vice. I do this because vices or character flaws create drama and conflict, and this is what makes stories and characters interesting. Picking a vice and then a corresponding virtue also helps me figure out the character’s motivation. I find it a useful starting point.
The Nine Deadly Sins:
According to some traditions, there are actually nine, not seven, deadly sins. In addition to the usual suspects, there are also fear and deceit. Once I have a character in mind, I think through which vice fits best, then look to the corresponding virtue. According to the Enneagram (a personality test), the nine vices and virtues are:
Wrath/Goodness
Pride/Love
Envy/Beauty
Greed/Wisdom
Gluttony/Joy
Lust/Courage
Sloth/Peace
Fear/Faithfulness
Deceit/Efficaciousness
How to use this technique:
Step 1.
Think about your character and choose a vice that feels right for them. Imagine your character interacting with other characters and see if it fits. If not, chose another one.
Step 2.
Think laterally. The idea behind this technique is to get you thinking more deeply about why your character does what they do, what their goals are and how they might go about achieving those goals. If you pick greed, how might this affect the way your character tries to solve problems?
Step 3:
Now that you have a vice, look at the corresponding virtue (or do it the other way around and start with a virtue then look at the corresponding vice). Think about how this virtue could help your character overcome an obstacle. How will it affect the way they relate to the other characters? How would your character react in a conflict situation? How would they react if the object of their desire were removed?
Step 4:
Moving from vice to virtue:
At least one, if not more, of your characters will develop emotionally in some way; they will learn a lesson and change their outlook. If you know your character has a particular vice, looking at their corresponding virtue can help you imagine the person they will mature into. On the flip side, if your story is about a character’s fall from grace, you can do the reverse.
That’s it, basically. You can go into it as much or as little as you like. And of course, many people have more than one vice. This is just to get you started.
Three vices/virtues in detail:
Gluttony/Joy
Gluttony is far more complex that overeating. It’s about grabbing experiences and not thinking about the cost. It’s about lurching from one experience to another, stuffing your mind and emotions. Adrenalin junkies come to mind. These people run from pain by filling up every spare moment of their lives with activity. The costs are not immediately noticeable, but if you look closely, these people are driven. They cannot stop for fear of being alone with their own thoughts.
The corresponding virtue is joy. These people are fun. They have a great capacity for deep happiness, living life to the full, seeing the positive side of things and making other people feel happy just by being around them and their optimism, eg, Fred and George Weasley from Harry Potter.
Lust/Courage
If you’re writing for young children, lust may seem like an inappropriate vice to choose for your character. However, lust is not confined to sexual lust. There is also lust for power, and power is a very relevant issue for children. Children seeking and exercising power make for interesting reading. These people are also courageous and can do much good in the world if they use their power for good, eg, Artemis Fowl.
Fear/Faithfulness
Not everyone would immediately class fear as a vice. Think of it this way: Does your character fear change and does this fear stop them from taking up opportunities in life? Does your character let their gifts go to waste for fear of making a mistake? Such people can become paralysed with indecision. Is your character suspicious of new people? Do they therefore try to keep others from joining the group? Does your character stand by in silence and watch someone else being bullied for fear of becoming a target if they speak up?
The other side of fear is faithfulness or loyalty. People who fear change are often very loyal to their families and to the groups to which they belong. They are ‘pillar of the community’ types who protect the group and can always be relied upon.
There is no formula:
Choosing a vice and virtue is just a starting point. After all, there are more than nine types of people in the world and many other ways of finding the key that unlocks your character. I hope this technique helps some of you.
If you are interested in looking at this further, there are many websites on the Enneagram.
-- Marianne Musgrove © 2007
A version of this article appeared in the e-newsletter, Pass it On
What To Do When Your Story Lacks Oomph:
A Case Study
The purpose of this article is to share a couple of things I have tried to liven up a scene.
1. Change the character’s attitude to the situation
In Lucy the Good, I began with the idea that seven year old Lucy’s great aunt is coming to visit and she will be sharing Lucy’s room. Lucy is not pleased with this plan and her fears turn out to be correct; her Dutch aunt is a stern old bird. Unfortunately, the scene where they share her room wasn’t working. There were no surprises. Lucy assumes Tante Bep (pronounced ‘ton-te bep’) will be annoying. Tante Bep is annoying.
I decided to play around with Lucy’s attitude to the situation. What if she was looking forward to Tante Bep’s visit instead of dreading it? Perhaps she envisaged late night story telling sessions, presents from Holland, camaraderie. Enter Tante Bep. She’s not good with children. She’s a bit controlling. Now we have dissonance between Lucy’s expectations and the reality of the situation; a far more interesting dynamic.
2. Rethink your characters’ first appearance in the book
In an early draft of my novel, Lucy’s aunt has already been picked up from the airport by Dad. This happens off stage so the first time the reader (and Lucy) meets Tante Bep is when Lucy gets home from school. They greet each other at the door. It was a dull beginning. Since Tante Bep is the catalyst for much of the conflict in the book, I realised their meeting needed to involve conflict right from the outset.
One way to shake up a scene is to change the setting. I went through a list of alternative places Lucy and Tante Bep might meet. The airport was an obvious choice. I put myself in the shoes of a curious seven year old. What would appeal to her at an airport? What ways could she unwittingly get into trouble?
As a kid, I always wanted to ride on the baggage carousel. I wondered what would happen if Lucy climbed onto it when Dad wasn’t looking. What if it suddenly started up and Lucy was carried around? She might enjoy it at first, but what would happen when she realised she’d be sucked into the hole at the other end? What if I brought Tante Bep into the story at this point? Lucy is being mischievous. Tante Bep disapproves. They’re off to a bad start and they’re going to be sharing a room for six weeks. Now things are looking much more interesting.
3. Challenge all assumptions
One technique I often use is to challenge all assumptions about a scene. In the above two examples, I challenged the assumption that Lucy would dread Tante Bep’s visit, and I challenged the assumption that the characters had to meet at home. These are only two examples of the kinds of assumptions we writers make about scenes. Others include:
- the necessity of certain characters being present in the scene
- the time of day
- the necessity of including the scene
- the gender of characters
- the age of characters.
Once we identify the assumptions we’re making, it is much easier to shake them up. In the words of Smallweed from the BBC’s adaptation of Bleak House, ‘Shake me up, Judy! Shake me up!’
-- Marianne Musgrove © 2008
A version of this article appeared in the e-newsletter, Pass it On.
How to Write a Good Opening
‘When Bill Simpson woke up on Monday morning, he found he was a girl.’
-- “Bill’s New Frock”, Anne Fine
‘I reckon there’s something wrong with me.’
-- “Stickybeak”, Morris Gleitzman
‘OK, so maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to put a mobile phone in Granddad’s coffin. At any rate, it was definitely not a good idea to ring it up in the middle of the funeral.’
-- Unfinished manuscript, Marianne Musgrove
In these days of Twitter, attention spans are ever-shortening. A writer doesn’t have much time to hook a reader so a story’s opening is paramount. This week, I randomly selected a few books off my shelf to see what their opening lines could teach me.
Here are some of my findings:
1. Consider the relationship between title and opening line
The title of your book provides a context for your opening line. Use this to your advantage, eg, you might like to have a seemingly happy/sunny title, then open the book with a line such as ‘My life is a disaster’, thus confounding the reader’s expectations and drawing them in.
2. Open with a summation of the story’s purpose
‘Everyone’s turning thirteen this year. And everyone’s got a boyfriend. Except me.’
So begins Diana Kidd’s award-winning “I Love Jason Delaney”. From these twelve words, we learn a lot about the character, the theme of the book and the issues that will be addressed.
3. Startle the reader with something incongruent or unexpected
Posing a question in the reader’s mind draws them into the story. By exercising their mind, they are no longer passively absorbing information, but have become an active participant in the story and are, therefore, more invested in the story’s outcome.
In “Bill’s Frock” (see quotation at the beginning of the article), we wonder: how and why did Bill wake up as a girl? What will he do now? The reader may even wonder how they would react if this happened to them.
4. Begin immediately after something significant has happened
‘It began badly.’
-- “A Fair few Days”, Jane Gardam
‘Until the angel came, there were three terribly unhappy children at Nitshill Road School.’
-- “The Angel of Nitshill Road”, Anne Fine
In both examples, we wonder what has transpired and what is to come.
My new soon-to-be-released book, “Don’t Breathe a Word”, (shameless self-promotion acknowledged) begins:
‘Tahlia said we couldn’t tell anyone.’
The reader (hopefully) wonders: what has just happened? Why must it be kept secret? Who is Tahlia? A sister? A friend? A foe? What power does she have over the narrator that she can demand her silence? What will happen if the secret is discovered?
Beginning a story immediately after something has happened is a good way of using the story’s momentum to draw the reader in. Information about the characters and setting can be supplied later.
5. Focus on characterisation
Sonya Hartnett’s “Sparkle and Nightflower” begins:
‘Once I had a very comfortable life. I had a friend, I had a house, I had a mother. I led a pretty ordinary life, for a sixteen year old. The fact is, though, I was a real loser. People didn’t like me, and I didn’t like people.’
From this, we learn that the character is not one to travel smoothly through life. Conflict will come his way and it is this promise of conflict that intrigues us.
6. Open with a quotation
This is a good way of framing your story or creating intrigue, eg:
‘Life is a stair up which Death beckons.’
-- “Haphazard House”, Mary Wesley
‘We has found the enemy and they is us.’
-- “Space Demons”, Gillian Rubinstein
7. Open with dialogue
‘Boo, hoo! Ow, ow; Oh! Oh! Me’ll die. Boo, hoo. The pain, the pain! Boo, hoo!’
-- “My Brilliant Career”, Miles Franklin
Opening your story mid-conversation or, even better, mid-argument, is a good way of starting in the middle of the action.
8. Remember your target audience
I was working on a manuscript last year about a boy who is a go-between for his divorced parents. The book is aimed at ten to twelve year olds. I tried out two opening lines:
- ‘Why didn’t I call out and let her know I was there?’
- ‘Mum says there are two types of people in this world: fight people and flight people.’
Option (a) focuses on the situation in which the character finds himself. The reader wonders: where is he and from whom he is hiding? Option (b) focuses on the theme of the book.
If the story were for an older, more patient audience, option (b) could work well. However, as the book is pitched at primary school-age children, beginning in the middle of the action is more appropriate.
9. Create atmosphere by describing the setting
These days, opening a story with a long description of the setting is becoming less common as the ‘start in the middle of the action’ mantra plays in the heads of us writers. There are, however, ways of introducing your story with the setting without boring the reader to death.
‘I began running down an empty, echoing stairwell, absurdly narrow for a building such as this with its generous interior proportions.’
-- “To be … or not to be?” Libby Hathorn, “Landmarks”, short story anthology, Nadia Wheatley (ed.)
This line simultaneously evokes an eerie atmosphere and poses a question in the reader’s mind: why is the character running in such a spooky place? The setting works in conjunction with the plot, not by itself.
Writing Exercise
- Reread your story’s opening then ask yourself:
a) Does it prompt any questions in the reader’s mind?
b) Is it sufficiently intriguing?
c) Does it reflect the theme/plot of the book?
d) Is it funny?
e) Does it begin in the middle of the action?
If you don’t answer yes to at least one of these questions, go back and consider how you could rework your opening to incorporate one or more of the above elements.
(This article first appeared in the e-newsletter, Pass it On, ed. 244, 1 June 2009.)
Dealing With Your Inner Critic
You know that voice in your head that pops up whenever you’re considering doing something new, or even something familiar? It tells you you’re not good enough/talented enough/persistent enough to achieve your goal. If you manage to press on regardless, it tells you your final efforts are not up to scratch. That voice, present in all of us, is your Inner Critic (IC). Mine has been known to stand behind me offering such gems as, “That sentence is no good. It’s full of grammatical errors!” or “This story is boring. Why are you even writing it? No one’s going to want to read it.”
IC also stands for ‘in charge’ and that is what your Inner Critic believes it is. It’s a bit like a belligerent squatter: very resistant to being removed. (As I wrote that sentence, my IC pointed out that I had very likely used the colon incorrectly.)
Clearly, the IC’s presence can be decidedly unhelpful at times, especially when you’re in the early draft stage of a manuscript. It does, however, have its place during the editing stage. So how can you marshal your IC’s powers for good and not evil?
Exercises
- Blogger and creative writing teacher, Angela Booth, advises her students to compose a letter to their IC. Explain that you understand your IC is only looking out for you but that its criticism is damaging your writing in the following five ways. Then list those ways and imagine posting the letter.
http://copywriter.typepad.com/copywriter/2008/10/writing-yourself-sane---kill-your-inner-critic.html - Create and fill out a leave form. Include name (My Inner Critic), reason for leave (X – your name – needs to do some writing), and period of leave (eg, from 4pm till 7pm on Thursday 24 July.). By giving an end time, your IC knows it can come back and will therefore not be so upset at being sent away.
- A writer friend of mine, Lilliana Rose, imagines tucking her IC into bed, giving it a kiss on the head, and turning off the light.
- When it’s time to edit your work, allow your IC to return but give it clear guidelines. Tell it you’re only prepared to listen to constructive criticism. Otherwise, you’ll send it on leave again.
These are just a few ways of dealing with your Inner Critic. Give them a try and remember: your IC is not in charge, you are!
Good luck and happy writing.
(This article first appeared in the e-newsletter, Pass it On, ed. 260, 28 Sept 2009.)
How The Worry Tree Came About
I wanted to be an author ever since I was ten or so. When I was eleven, I finished my first full length novel entitled Super Gibbo. It was a romantic thriller featuring my classmates and my teacher read it out to the whole class. From then on, I had the writing bug, and went on to write an awful lot of poetry in high school when I was supposed to be paying attention during my Year 10 English class (sorry, Mrs Hoschke!).
Years later, when I was 28, a scene popped into my head where a pesky little sister is timing her older, more uptight sister, in the toilet. I had a feeling I was onto something. This became the opening scene to The Worry Tree.
Some time later, I had all these unconnected scenes involving characters who were similar to people I knew, only different. The characters started doing things the original people would never have done. It felt like I had conjured up a real family who lived in an alternate universe.
Still, I had a problem. I didn't know how to tie these unconnected scenes together into a proper story. By chance, I was looking through a magazine and saw a photo of a girl's bedroom. There was a tree painted on the wall with animals in its branches. It occurred to me that as the main character, Juliet, was a real worrywart, what she needed was a way of coping with her worries. I wondered what it would be like to peel away some old wallpaper and discover a tree you could hang your worries on. That's how the idea for The Worry Tree came about. After that, it was a lot of hard work as I shaped these ideas into a book.
How On Earth Do You Get Published?
Me about to go to the Post Office to send The Worry Tree
manuscript to my first publisher (it got rejected!).
- Write, write and rewrite till you're sick of your story.
- Put it in a drawer for a couple of months to get some perspective.
- Take it out of the drawer, read it over and do some more rewriting.
- Grit your teeth and show your story to your friends and family. Praise is nice but you need to know what's not working too. Ask very specific questions, eg, which is the worst bit and why? When does the story get boring? What did you like best? What did you like least?
- You might like to enrol in a creative writing course, or
- Think about getting a professional manuscript assessor to take a look at your manuscript. This costs a reasonable amount of money so make sure it's as good as you can get it before you send it in. Listen to the feedback you receive with an open mind.
- Rewrite the whole thing some more then start sending it out to publishers. Do your research so you know which publishers are publishing in your area and how they like their manuscripts set out. This is very important. Publishers get thousands of manuscripts each year. If yours is printed on purple paper with glitter hearts all over it, you will get the editor's attention, but not in a good way.
- Finally, be persistent. If this is what you want to do with your life, then don't give up, especially if you're lucky enough to receive an encouraging rejection letter from a publisher. Such letters are highly sought after (almost as much as acceptance letters!).
- And even if you don't get published, keep writing anyway, just because you love it.
To Plume or Nom de Plume: twelve things to think about when taking a pen name.
There are many reasons you might want to publish under a different name. Don't be surprised, however, if doing so creates a bit of an identity crisis. I've written the odd story under a pseudonym and even though I'm generally not given to angst, I was surprised to find myself completely wound up about the issue. I didn't just take a trip to Angst City, I bought a flat there and started a vegie garden!
Here are some things to consider:
- Is your name hard to spell? If yes, people will have trouble Googling it and staff in bookshops may not be able to find it on their computers.
- Many people are too shy to ask for a book at a bookshop if they don't know how to pronounce the author's name.
- Then again, we do live in a multicultural society and there are plenty of great non-Anglo-Saxon names out there.
- You could compromise and spell your name phonetically.
- Where will it be on the book shelf in the shop? I'm told A-H's have the best sales because they're at eye level.
- Is it memorable?
- If you do take a nom de plume, can you see yourself answering to that name on, say, a panel at a festival?
- Practice writing out each signature and see what feels right.
- It's possible you may become famous. You might appreciate the anonymity of a pen name.
- Bear in mind, writing is a business as well as a creative, fun thing to do. What does your name say about you?
- You will feel loss, no matter what you do. If you change it, you will grieve your old name. If you don't change it, you will feel some regret over a lost marketing opportunity.
- Ask people what they think, but remember, it's your name so only change it if you really want to.
A version of this article appeared in the e-newsletter, Pass it On.