10 Things that Kill Writing—and How to Overcome Them

Call it writer’s block.  Call it fear.  Call it distraction.

Sometimes writers have trouble getting started or finishing what they’ve started.  It’s easy to understand why: Sooner or later, we subject our precious words to an audience which will pass some sort of judgment on them: they will like our words, loathe them, be indifferent to them, analyze and scrutinize them, or ignore them. Believing we must “get it right” can intimidate even the bravest of souls when it comes writing.

Here are 10 things that kill writing and some quick solutions for overcoming them:

 1. Worry.  Being a writer means you think about a lot of stuff, and thinking can lead to worry.  (This is better than the alternative, though: Not thinking is never a good thing.) While some concern is healthy, too much of it can immobilize you.

 

Solution: Identify precisely what is worrying you and make a list of possible scenarios, both good and bad. As Dale Carnegie said, prepare yourself for the worst that can happen and then imagine ways you can improve on the worst. If you write all this out, guess what—you're writing!

2. Procrastination.  This wordkiller whispers sweet nothings in your ear: “I’ll do it tomorrow.”  “I’m tired right now.”  “I have to be in the right frame of mind to write.” Procrastination is a way of fooling yourself into believing you’ll do the work later when you know you won’t.

Solution: Write. Right now.

3. “I have nothing to say.”  This wordkiller is a close relative of Worry.  It comes from the erroneous belief that you have nothing to contribute to your audience’s needs.

Solution: Recognize that everything you’ve experienced or imagined is unknown to someone, and, therefore, has value to that person. Do you know how to change a tire? Do you know what it feels like to be a child of divorced parents? Think your fictional story won't "help" anyone?  Think again. Look how Harry Potter inspired kids everywhere.

4. Ego.  The opposite of No. 3, this wordkiller takes the form of “My writing is perfect” or “There’s nothing wrong with my story.” Ego as a self-defense mechanism shields us from criticism. Often, though, it means writers think too highly of themselves.

Solution: Admit you’re not perfect. Distance yourself from your writing so you can look at it through another’s eyes.  Never take criticism personally.

5. Inattention to detail.  This wordkiller can take the form of anything from not knowing the difference between comma splices and semi-colons to not doing enough research.  It can involve failing to think through your character’s motivations or brushing off story structure, mechanics, and conventions.

Solution: Learn the tools of the trade. You wouldn’t trust a carpenter who didn’t know how to use a hammer to build your house, would you?

6. Over-attention to detail.  The opposite of No. 5, this wordkiller results in writers spending too much time searching for the perfect word or character name, or researching the weather patterns of some obscure time and place. Details are important, but focusing too much on them takes away from the time you spend writing.

Solution: When you come across a stumbling block in your story, leave a blank and move on.  Come back to the blank after you’ve had fresh insight or time to research.

7. Keeping it to yourself.  Writing is a form of communication, and communication can only happen between one person (you) and one or more others. Writing for yourself has value, but sooner or later you’ve got to share your writing with others. That’s what it’s for.

Solution: Join writing groups. Post online. Start a blog. Submit your work for publication. Get it out there.

8. Judging your book before it’s finished.  You write a line and think it’s crap. You’re halfway through the book and don’t like your character. The setting isn’t working.

Solution: Turn off your internal critic. Give yourself permission, as Anne Lamott says, to write a “shitty” first draft.

9. Judging your book after it’s finished.  Okay, you’ve made it through one or more drafts.   Now it’s crap.  While it’s important for writers to be honest with themselves, judging your efforts too harshly can give you the feeling you’ve done all this work for nothing.

Solution:  Avoid exaggerating your story’s flaws. Admit your work probably still needs some polishing, maybe even a rewrite, but buy yourself a bottle of wine for coming this far!  Embrace your story’s positive qualities.  If you’ve made an honest effort, there are some!

10. Not writing.  This is a no-brainer. If you don’t write, you can’t improve. Worse, you can’t unleash your wonderful ideas upon a starving world waiting for your words to enrich it.

Solution: See No. 2, above.

Wordkillers are sneaky, treacherous enemies. But recognizing them for what they are and taking a few simple steps to overcome them will help make your dreams a reality.

Can you identify other wordkillers?  How do you overcome them?

Should Your Character Be an Orphan?

Spider-Man debuts: Amazing Fantasy #15 (Aug. 1962). Cover art by Jack Kirby (penciler) and Steve Ditko (inker). (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

If you're writing a story that features a young hero, one of the most difficult questions you will have to answer is this: How many parents should your character have? Two? One? None?

Why is this difficult? Because writers often pattern their young characters after themselves at the same age, and killing off your character’s parents can feel like killing off your own.

Also, doing away with your character’s parents flies in the face of our normal human desire for our characters to be happy, healthy, and whole.

Yet heroes who have lost one or both parents dominate all kinds of fiction: Superman, Spider-Man, Katniss Everdeen in The Hunger Games, Scout Finch in To Kill a Mockingbird, and so forth. “Cinderella,” “Hansel and Gretel,” and other children's stories also feature heroes whose parents are either dead or absent.

Why can offing your character's parents be a good thing? Let's take a closer look at some of the examples above:

Katniss Everdeen

Katniss lost her father to a mining accident some years before The Hunger Games begins, leaving her to care for her emotionally absent mother and very young sister. Although it’s not explicitly stated in the film, Katniss appears to be her family’s sole provider: she hunts and begs for food.

These dire circumstances imbue Katniss with a streak of independence and strength of character which make her actions in the story plausible. Protective of her sister, Katniss volunteers to take her place in the Hunger Games. Able to hunt and hide, she possesses an advantage over most of her competitors.

In short, the loss of her father has turned Katniss into a survivor.

Scout Finch

Jean Louise “Scout” Finch ages from six to eight in Harper Lee’s novel To Kill a Mockingbird, but Scout lost her mother when she was two. Although she and her older brother, Jem, are looked after by their father’s cook, Calpurnia, the absence of a close female role model becomes apparent when Scout’s aunt, Alexandra, comes to live with them. 

Alexandra tries to mold Scout into a lady and indoctrinate her into the beliefs and practices considered proper for ladies in their small, 1930s Alabama town. But tomboy Scout wears overalls, gets into fights with Jem and other boys, and sneaks into the courthouse to watch her father, lawyer Atticus Finch, at work. 

In fact, Scout’s close relationship with her father plays a significant role in her open-mindedness and acceptance of people who are different from her (such as black people and the Finch's reclusive neighbor, Boo Radley), attitudes which are decidedly at odds with the judgmental and racist views common in her town. Scout learns to see the world through another's perspective, echoing her father's philosophy.

Had her mother lived, the novel implies, Scout may not have had such a close relationship with Atticus.

Superman and Spider-Man 

Both are orphans. Superman lost not only his natural parents but his entire world when Krypton exploded.  Raised by the kindly Kents, he becomes orphaned a second time when they pass away (in the original continuity, at least). 

Why was it necessary for Superman to lose two sets of parent? The answer DC Comics gave was to show that, for all his powers, Superman was not a god. There were things he could not control, such as death.

Spider-Man’s parents died when he was young, and he was raised by his aunt and uncle. He, too, experiences a second tragedy when Uncle Ben is shot and killed, which provides Spider-Man with his motivation to become a hero: “With great power comes great responsibility.”

Would it have made a difference if Ben Parker were Spidey’s father instead of his uncle? Perhaps writer Stan Lee chose to distance Peter Parker from his natural parents because the death of a parent in story would have been too schocking or hard for his young readers to take. (Consider how the murder of Batman’s parents, which happens in story, makes that character so much darker and his readers’ expectations of him so different from the examples above.) 

Katniss, Scout, Superman and Spidey lost one or both parents years before each of their stories begins. In each case (except Katniss), they are too young to remember the lost parent or parents. This allows the reader to feel sympathy toward them without being too horrified or grief-stricken.

Damon and The Power Club

Readers of this blog who have checked out the chapters of my novel-in-progress, The Power Club™, may have noticed that I've violated this apparent rule: Damon's parents are both alive and well, at least in the prologue.

Truth is, it never occurred to me to kill them off before. Even now, I'm on the fence about doing so. Damon has plenty of other things to cause him consternation, and I want him to be an individual character, not an archetype.

Besides, some stories do feature heroes whose parents live. (The Waltons and numerous other TV series come to mind.)

Another besides: Damon’s entire story has yet to be be written, so who knows what the future holds in store for Mr. and Mrs. Neumeyer?

Tie Your Mother Down?

So, why should you consider offing your character's parents? Because in our world the traditional family unit of two parents and 2.5 children is, whether we admit it or not, often considered the norm—the ideal standard for raising healthy, happy, and whole children. At least that's what many of our politicians say.

But your hero lives in an imperfect world (as do most of your readers). Something is missing and your hero sets out on a quest to find it. Or something is not right, and your hero tries to fix it. 

Taking your hero out of her "perfect" world sets your story in motion.

If you like this post, you may also like:

• Playing the Game: How The Hunger Games Combines Adventure and Social Commentary

• Should Writers Be Original or Do What the “Experts” Say?

• Superman Vs. Batman: Choose Your Icon

A Blast From the Past: Top 10 Tips for Writers

Writer Wordart (Photo credit: MarkGregory007)

Time flies when you’re having fun (or not, sometimes). This post marks the first-year anniversary of this blog, and I can truly say it’s been fun (as well as occasionally brain-wrenching to come up with topics for posts every week). It’s been an amazing learning experience.

A deep thanks to everyone who’s dropped by. If you read the blog regularly or occasionally, or if you’ve just dropped in to see what this is all about, I appreciate it. A special thanks to those who have left comments, re-tweeted and re-Facebooked my posts, and referred this site to others. Your valuable input has helped keep this site going.

But this blog isn’t about me. It’s about you and this thing we share called writing.

Blogs of this type are meant primarily to promote the writer’s work, to create a buzz for forthcoming projects, and, sometimes, to sell the writer’s work. This blog aims to do all of these things (including now allowing you can purchase my comic book Gold Dust). But it also aims to do more: to explore this preoccupation we call writing, to share writing advice, and to analyze good and bad writing—particularly as it pertain to the often maligned but nevertheless popular genre of super-heroes.

I hope to continue to explore these interests well into the future; in the meantime, let’s take a trip through some of The Semi-Great Gildersleeve's Greatest Hits. In no particular order, here are my Top Ten Writing Tips: 

1. Write a Sloppy First Draft. This comes straight from Anne Lamott, author of the influential Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life. Don’t be afraid to let your first efforts suck — they should suck. Get your story down on paper, and then make it better through revision.

2. Face Your Writing Fears. My very first post was about this subject. Fears related to writing can come in any disguise: Writing something stupid. Exposing your work to others. Submitting your work to an agent or publisher. Taking on the responsibility of self-publishing. 

Fears never truly go away. They simply move from one target to another. The minute you conquer one writing fear, another pops up to demand all your reserves of courage.  But hang in there. Keep your goal(s) in mind.

3. Trust the Writing Process. Another early post was about letting go of your need to control every aspect of the story. Let it go where it needs to go. Who knows? It may take you on a better journey than the one you planned.

4. Narrow Your Audience. A constant problem for novice writers is the desire to write for “everybody” or to put as little thought as possible into who’s actually going to read your book. But no book (not even Harry Potter) appeals to everyone. If by chance your novel reaches a wide audience, consider yourself blessed. Knowing your primary audience will help you focus your story and reach the readers who are most likely to appreciate your work.

5. Critique Groups are Priceless. Not all critique groups work out, of course. But if you find a small group of people who are willing to read your work and give you honest, constructive feedback, hold on to them. They are your bridge between what’s inside your head and your eventual audience. 

6. Difficult Readers are Inevitable. Some readers just don’t get your work, or they have agendas of their own which they want to foist upon your book. Accept it. Deal with it. Move on.

7. Write about Your Passion. Some of the most successful posts in terms of pageviews have been those related to comic books, such as this one and this one. Funny thing is, I don’t currently read comics. They’re too expensive, and I’m frustrated by the never-ending, decompressed storytelling and reboots that have been in vogue for the last several years. But that hasn’t stopped me from writing about old comics and, to my surprise, discovering that others like to read these posts.

I also explore the world of super-heroes through novels, including writing one of my own.

8. Don’t Strive to be Too Original. Nobody wants to publish or read something that’s “unlike anything that’s ever been published,” even though, as writers, we yearn to write such a thing. Familiarity has a vital place in fiction.

9. Don’t Let Writer’s Block Stop Your Story. Two separate articles—here and here—give tips on how to ovecome writer’s block.

10. Don’t Wait for Inspiration.  Inspiration is fickle. Your real story comes from deep within you, not from the sprinkling of some magical idea that happens to land upon your head.

Thanks again, one and all, for helping to make this blog a success!  The best is yet to come.

Why Spell Check is Not Your Friend

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The difference between the almost right word & the right word is really a large matter–it's the difference between the lightning bug and the lightning.– Mark Twain

Ah, computers!  What wonderful tools for writers.  You type in your words and, if you make a mistake, your spell check corrects it for you.

But not so fast.  Spell checks are great for speed and efficiency, but they can also make us lazy.  Worse, they make writers ignorant of the skills we need to become better writers.  If you rely too much on a spell check, you can use the "almost right word" and not even know it.

Take these examples from recent student papers in my college composition course:               

If you are one of the few people who has savior acne problems . . .

Everyone may need some correction to becoming better at his or her weak arrears. 

Another stereotype that needs addressing is alcohol. Yes. There are tones of it. 

He believes rabbis will be the cause of the walking dead.

To be fair, the last one came from an in-class, handwritten exercise, not a computer-processed, spell-checked essay.  Even so, it reminds us why we should know the difference between the right word and the "almost right word."

I’m pretty sure the student meant “rabies” instead of rabbis.  As for the others, a close reading of the text makes it clear what word each student meant to use (severe for savior, areas for arrears, and tons for tones).

   

What went wrong?   Each student probably typed in what seemed to be the right word, and, when no red squiggly lines popped up to underline the error, he or she moved on.  (The words, after all, are spelled correctly.)   Or perhaps the computer tried to assist the student by offering suggestions after the first few letters were typed – suggestions that happened to be wrong.

Okay, so students make mistakes.  Big deal, right?  Why not just laugh about it and move on?

Because laziness and ignorance do not end at a few poor word choices.  They can cause major problems for writers who get into the habit of being lazy.  In The Writer’s Way, authors Jack Rawlins and Stephen Metzger describe a student paper that was supposed to be about jazz legend Duke Ellington.  As one of the authors puts it, 

[the student] simply did a global ‘search and fix’ before he submitted the paper to me.  Because his computer didn’t recognize ‘Ellington,’ he ended up with a paper about ‘Duke Wellington.’  I handed it back without reading past the first paragraph.

Now, imagine you’re not a student writing a paper for a composition instructor.  Imagine you’re a writer who wants to sell your story to an agent or publisher.  How would you feel if the manuscript you’ve worked hard and long on comes back to you with a rejection note (if you’re lucky) to watch out for similar errors?  What are the odds of that agent or publisher taking seriously anything you send them in the future?

Spell checks do have advantages.  They can help us with blind spots (for example, I often have to stop and remind myself whether "referred" has one or two "r's" at the end) and teach us how to spell unfamiliar words.

But relying too much on spell checks can bring disaster.  Their is know substitute four having god spilling skills yore shelf.

Work Cited:

Rawlins, Jack, and Stephen Metzger.  The Writer’s Way.  7^th ed.  Boston: Houghton-Mifflin, 2009.  Page 194.

Why Writing Roadblocks Are Good for Your Story

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Writing is a lot like embarking on a journey with an incomplete road map.  You think you know where you’re going, but the map doesn’t show the unexpected detours, the places where the road suddenly ends, and the new highway under construction.

Also, you entrust your car (the story) to a driver (your main character), who has a mind of his own, is often distracted by shiny objects on the side of the road, and wants to stop occasionally to take care of bodily functions (sleeping, eating, going to the restroom).

You, the writer, want to keep moving forward in a predetermined direction, but the incomplete map and willful driver get in the way, creating writing roadblocks that threaten to derail your story.

It’s enough to make a writer give up on the journey and start over (e.g., rewrite the story from the beginning or abandon the story in favor of a new one) or even stay home (give up on writing altogether).

But don’t be hasty.  A roadblock can be the best thing to happen to your story.

Writing roadblocks come in many forms.  Sometimes your character is faced with a decision, and you have no idea how she will decide.  Or another, unexpected character shows up, and you don’t know what to do with him.  Or the plot twist you thought was going to be brilliant turns out to be lame.  What do you do now?

Here are eight tips for working with your roadblock instead of fighting it:

1. Begin with your character. Your character must want something.  What is it?  How important is it that she gets what she wants?  You do not have to determine up front whether or not your character succeeds – the fact that she wants something gives your story purpose and direction.

2. Determine what’s at stake.  What will happen if your character does not get what she wants?  Will she lose her last chance at happiness?  Will the murderer get away?  Will the world come to an end?  Again, you do not have to know up front if your character will win.  You only have to know what will happen if she doesn’t.

3. Be prepared to accept the worst. Writers can hold themselves back if they fail to consider this.  And it is a hard thing to consider.  We like to think of our main characters as winners, and much of popular fiction teaches us that the hero always wins.  But doubt and uncertainty can paralyze us as writers if we don’t face every possible outcome.

So what if your character loses her last chance at happiness?  What if the murderer gets away?  What if the world comes to an end?  What then?  (And there is always a “What then?” even if the world ends.)

4. Determine the steps your character will take to reach her goal. Once again, you don’t know if she’s going to succeed; you only know what she’s going to do next.

5. Determine some of the obstacles in your character’s way.  If you’re like me, creating obstacles for your character is tough.  It’s like tripping your own child while he’s carrying a tray full of expensive china across the room.  My advice: Don’t stress too hard in dreaming up obstacles.  Your character will no doubt trip by himself at some point, which leads me to . . .

6. When an unexpected roadblock occurs, see it as an opportunity for growth – for both your character and yourself.  This is where you truly test your mettle as a writer, where both you and your character discover hidden strengths.  Just as adversity in the real world can bring out hidden talents, forgotten skills, and surprising character traits in people, so too can roadblocks reveal hidden aspects of your story, thereby keeping it fresh and exciting.

7. Keep forging ahead. Go around the roadblock.  Fly over it.  Dig under it.  Heck, it’s your story: drive straight through the roadblock if you wish.  Whatever you do, keep writing.

8. Don’t start over.  If you do, you deprive your character and yourself of a chance to grow.  Instead, muster the courage to keep going forward, wherever the story takes you, even if the outcome differs from what you originally wanted.

Writing is discovery, but not all discoveries are pleasant.  When a writing roadblock threatens to derail your story, seize it as an opportunity to trust in yourself and in your story.  After all, a roadblock may just make the entire journey worthwhile.

What do you think?  How do you deal with writing roadblocks?

Related articles

• Where To Start Your Story (joannegphillips.wordpress.com)

How to Write an Unlikeable Character

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I didn’t set out to do it, but it happened anyway.

The main character in one of my works-in-progress is “ignorant,” “priggish” and “holier-than-thou,” according to a member of my writing group.  In other words, the character is downright unlikeable.

And I’m fine with that. 

Unlikeable heroes – sometimes called antiheroes – are fascinating.  Like Travis Bickle in Taxi (shown above), they tend to be characters we identify with and love to watch in action, whether we admit it or not.

But there is a trick to writing an unlikeable character – a balance, a trade-off, a way to avoid alienating the audience from the character (although other characters may be so alienated).

Before we get to that trick, let’s look at three reasons why unlikeable characters are so appealing:

Unlikeable characters mirror our own struggles for acceptance and to get ahead.  In the British historical drama Downton Abbey (airing Sunday evenings on PBS), Thomas is a self-serving, ambitious, and ingratiating footman who steals and lies.  Full of arrogance, he lords it over the other servants of the house when he is appointed military liaison during World War I.  After the war, he tries to get ahead by dabbling in the black market. 

His schemes invariably fail, sometimes with laughable results, but he keeps trying, and, in the 2011 Christmas Special, he finally wins a long sought-after promotion.

Thomas might better be classified as an antagonist than an antihero, except he is so wonderfully complex part of us hopes he will succeed.  When several members of both the family and staff take ill with the Spanish flu, Thomas pitches in – free of charge (“Consider it rent,” he says) – to help out.  We know it’s just another scheme to ingratiate himself further, but part of us wants to believe Thomas is indeed changing or that he will see that by helping others, he can help himself.  We know this probably won’t happen, but there’s hope.

Unlikeable characters express struggles within us.  Wolverine, the iconic X-Men antihero, began as an antisocial, mildly sociopathic misfit who antagonized his teammates, was contantly on the verge of going berserk, and possibly violated one of the oldest codes for super-heroes by killing villains.  In one early scene (Uncanny X-Men # 96, December 1975), Wolverine does indeed go berserk and hacks and slashes away at a monstrous enemy.  Afterwards, he expresses regret that many years of discipline and prayer had failed to bring his animalistic side under control – but also astonishment that he enjoyed inflicting such carnage!

Wolverine represents our sometimes conflicting desires to control less savory aspects of our characters and to finally give in to and revel in those traits.  It’s no coincidence that Wolvie – a character with claws and a badass attitude – remains one of Marvel’s most popular heroes nearly 40 years after his debut.   But it’s his inner conflicts that make him relatable.

Unlikeable characters represent our own desire to persevere in spite of the unfairness of life.  Wildfire, a member of the Legion of Super-Heroes, is a hero without a body.  Converted by accident into a being of pure energy, he interacts with his fellow Legionnaires, villains, and everyone else through a containment suit that permanently separates him from others.  This condition magnifies his already hot-headed personality: he antagonizes his teammates, much like Wolverine does. 

However, Wildfire proved so popular with fans that he was elected leader of the Legion, giving him even more opportunities to antagonize his teammates with his brusqueness, temper, and autocratic ways. 

Yet for all of his power and popularity, Wildfire can’t do the things ordinary people can.  This was driven home when he eventually developed a relationship with fellow Legionnaire Dawnstar.  Despite his frustration, sexual and otherwise, Wildfire became the Legionnaire many fans rooted for.  He never cared what other Legionnaires thought of him, and he never gave up.

Now for that trick to writing unlikeable characters:

Each of these characters bonds with at least one other character, and the interaction between them helps bring out the unlikeable character’s humanity.  Thus, Thomas has Miss O’Brien (who, herself, is rather unlikeable), the older, vengeful spinster who takes an almost motherly interest in him.  She becomes his co-conspirator in the black market scheme and is there to sympathize with him when it goes horribly wrong. 

Wolverine and Wildfire both had doomed relationships with Phoenix and Dawnstar, respectively.  (And, in the first X-Men film, Wolverine is given a protégée of sorts in Rogue – a relationship which did not exist in the original comics.)

Showing your unlikeable character as being capable of a relationship  – a friendship, a love affair, a confidence – keeps the character from becoming a total misanthrope.  More, it gives us “permission” to like the unlikeable.

What do you think?  Are any of your characters unlikeable?

Are You Throwing the Reader Out of Your Story? Avoid Unnecessary Homages

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So, I’m wrapped up in the latest superhero novel. The storyline is exciting, the characters are engaging, the action propels me along. It’s a real page turner. Then my enjoyment comes to a screeching halt when the action shifts to a fictional country called “Lieberstan”.

Lieberstan? Sounds familiar.

Wait – wasn't Stanley Martin Lieber the real name of Marvel Comics head honcho Stan Lee? Stan Lieber . . . Lieberstan.

Ah, I get it.

Unfortunately, I “get it” every time the country is mentioned – which, since a major turning point in the story occurs there, is quite often. I can’t help thinking of the wisecracking huckster persona of Mr. Lee, who has been so successful in promoting himself as well as the Marvel heroes he helped create that he’s practically a self parody.

As a result, every mention of “Lieberstan” throws me out of the story.

Homages – references to stories or creators which influenced the writer – can be fun. They provide an indirect way for the writer to acknowledge such influences. They also provide fans with the fun of searching for “Easter eggs” and with a feeling of being “in the know”. If you get the reference, you can call yourself a true fan.

But the wrong kind of homage creates an unnecessary association or image in the reader’s mind. Such an image can throw the reader out of the story like a horse which has suddenly decided to buck its rider.

Comic book artists, for example, often draw covers that evoke famous covers of the past, such as that of Fantastic Four # 1. But such covers are meant to make the reader think of the source, either as a parody or because the artist wants to capture some essence or feeling associated with Fantastic Four # 1. Any artist who draws a picture of heroes gathering around to fight a giant monster emerging from the ground and doesn’t expect readers to think of FF # 1 is fooling himself.

Sometimes an homage can mean the writer is merely trying to be clever. I fell prey to this vice myself: In grad school, I wrote a film script that included an investigative reporter named Jack Gittes. My professor immediately caught the reference to Jake Gittes, Jack Nicholson’s character in Chinatown, and chided me for it. Why on earth, the professor asked, did I want viewers to think of Chinatown in a film about a rock ‘n’ roll band?

Sometimes the writer draws so closely from source material that an homage can be unintentional. I fell prey to this vice, too. In previous drafts of The Power Club™, my club of super-powered kids elected a new leader every month. Why? Because one of my sources of inspiration, the Legion of Super-Heroes, elected a new leader every year.

A member of my writing group pointed out, however, that electing a new leader every month seemed artificial. I agreed, so I changed it.

What purpose is served by calling a fictional country “Lieberstan”? None, as far as I can tell. The writer may have intended for the reader to think of Marvel's epic super-battles. But this association destroys the uniqueness and seriousness of the writer’s own world.  As a reader, I don’t need to associate his world with Marvel to enjoy it. In fact, the name undermines suspension of disbelief by drawing attention to the fact that this is a made-up country in a made-up story. 

Homages can be fun, but, if you use one, make sure you have a good reason for wanting the reader to associate your story with its source of inspiration.

What do you think?  Do you have unnecessary homages in your story?

Writing Contest: Describe My Character

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NOTE: DUE TO A POTENTIAL SECURITY BREECH, I'VE HAD TO ALTER THE SUBMISSION TERMS OF THIS CONTEST.  SEE THE ** BELOW.

How much description is too much?

Writers often struggle with this question.  Should you describe your main character's hair color?  Hair length?  What type of clothes she wears?  Her facial expression? Her living room?

There are no easy answers, as suggested by a conversation I recently had with a group of fellow writers.

One writer, the talented  Eve Brackenbury (who also owns Prospero’s Parkside Books in Blue Spring, MO, where I did a reading along with members for my writing group on Thursday night), asked each of us to describe the layout of the house in a novel by one of the other writers.  

Even though we’d all read the book, each of us described the house differently.

I then asked the others to describe Damon, the main character in my novel-in-progress, The Power Club™.  Again, responses varied: Damon was stocky or slim, he had brown hair or reddish-brown hair, he looked like a younger version of me, etc.

And that’s how it should be.

As Eve noted, writers should give each character or setting just enough description to tell the reader what she needs to know and allow the reader's imagination to take it from there.  Too much description can prove jarring to the reader, particularly if it’s not clear from the outset.  There’s nothing more annoying than visualizing a living room on the left side of the house as you enter and discovering two chapters later that it's actually on the right.

And, really, does it matter if Reader A’s impressions are the same as Reader B’s?  Each reader constructs the story in his or her head based on the words on the page.  If some readers see Damon as stocky, their right.  If others visualize a slim darkspace caster, they're right, too.

But our conversation left me wondering: How do other readers visualize Damon?  

Let’s see if we can find out.

Announcing the First-ever Semi-Great Gildersleeve Writing Contest

The goal is simple: describe my character.

First, read excerpts from the book – the prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, and the bonus story, “Santa Drives a Chevrolet” – to get a sense of the character.  (Note: Feel free to ignore the silhouetted images on Chapters 1-3.)

Then let your imagination run wild.

If you’re an artist, you may draw the character.  If you’re a writer, write a paragraph describing him: his hair color, hair length, build, clothes, how he carries himself, etc.  What is he doing?  How does he look when he's using his power?    

The only clue I’m going to give you is Damon’s age: In most of the novel, he’s 13.  In the prologue, he’s six.  In “Santa,” he’s nine.

I’d prefer entries to focus on the 13-year-old Damon, but, if you’ve got a wonderful idea for how one of the younger versions looks, knock yourself out.

**Copy your description or drawing into a comment below.  Be sure to include to include a link so I can contact you if you've won the prize.  Entries must be in the comments field by no later than noon on February 21.  I'll hold a drawing for the prize on February 25.

The absolute BEST entry will get something special: a signed copy of my comic book, Gold Dust—rare, only a few copies are still available.

So, you can’t lose:  you get free publicity . . . AND you may get a free, signed comic book!

What are you waiting for?  Sharpen those pencils, flex those fingers, and get cracking!