Me and Oprah

Exposition – there’s no getting around the need to explain what’s going on at times in a story. Are you “gather them in the drawing room and have the sleuth lay it all out” type or how do you handle this?

“So Alan, you knowingly explain things for your readers in bold, brash exposition, right in the middle of your stories,” Oprah said, leaning in for the kill. “What is that?” 

I swallowed and tried to put on my best game face. Deny or come clean? Or waffle? “Well, Oprah, I’m a storyteller, and I know it’s wrong to always simply explain things. It’s much better to place things in context, or to dole stuff out in small doses.” I paused. “Or even to sneak explanations into dialogue. I know too much exposition is wrong, but everyone does it. In fact, I don’t think I could have written those seven manuscripts without doing it.”

Oprah sat back, smug look on her face. “Yes, but what about your millions of fans? What about all those people who looked up to you, admiring you and your incredible achievements? Don’t you know that nobody likes exposition? Info dumps are boring. And frankly, they’re the mark of an amateur.”

Millions of fans? What was Oprah smoking? Sure, my family liked my stuff, but…I regrouped. “Oprah, I do my best, I honestly do. But sometimes there’s no other way. Sometimes you have no choice but to blatantly lay out what’s going on. I try to keep it short. I try to make it interesting. I try to come up with clever ways to make my readers take their medicine. I guess not everyone agrees with my methods. One thing I can promise: I’ll continue to strive to do better.”

She nodded, clearly not believing my latest line of B.S., then spoke earnestly to the camera. “We’ve got to take a break. When we return, we’ll really put our guest on the hotseat.” An aide rushed over to freshen Oprah’s make-up, while I sat there, alone with my thoughts.

I never was a fan of exposition. I preferred action, dialogue. You know, interesting stuff full of conflict. Not dull explanations that drag the narrative drive to a screeching halt. But at times, exposition was inevitable. So I did my best to slide it in without notice. Sometimes, I tried to slip some “story explanation” into my characters’ interior monologue. You know, have a character sit someplace, alone with his thoughts, recapping what’s going on in the story. Still, I often got the feeling that my efforts were clunky and transparent.

“And we’re back,” Oprah said, turning toward me. “America wants to know why you feel the need to hide behind passive and weak sentence construction. What do you say to those charges?”

I crossed my arms across my chest, in a vain attempt to keep my career from going down deeper in flames. “Mistakes have been made.”

(This entry is “simul-posted” on Criminal Minds.)

You Bet Your Bieber!

How much pop culture and/or current references do you put in your work? Do you fear dating the material versus giving the story a sense of immediacy?

This question is as groovy as the Fab Four playing Frisbee with Mick and Keith!

I have absolutely no hesitation about using any and all (clever) pop culture/current references I can wedge in (as long as they fit the story and the characters, of course). I believe the type of car someone drives or the kind of beverage he drinks or the TV shows a person watches says a lot about his character. A guy driving a Ford pick-up drinking Iron City who watches Justified is bound to travel in different circles than someone driving a Lexus drinking mangotinis who’s partial to PBS. (Yes, I’m including brand names in the discussion.)

To me, including pop culture references in a character’s dialogue (or interior monologue) adds verisimilitude. I mean, there are a lot of people (in the real world) enamored with pop culture (have you seen the tabloids at the supermarket checkout counters?). So why wouldn’t my fictional characters do the same? If they didn’t, they wouldn’t seem real, at least not to me.

Am I worried about my work becoming dated? Not in the least. I’d be ecstatic if people are still reading my work far enough in the future that my current references feel dated.

I do try to hedge my bets, where possible. When I do make these references, I generally try to pick an icon or very well-established brand, for two major reasons. I want as many people to “get” the reference as possible, and I believe that the more well-known someone or something is, the longer the staying power will be.

Besides, if Stephen King can get away with peppering his stories with pop culture references, why can’t I?

(This entry is “simul-posted” on Criminal Minds.)

The Pachinko Construct

What do you do when the story/characters/etc. bring you to a spot where you can go one way or another and both are great twists? How do you choose?

A writing instructor once told me that a book is simply the result of an infinite number of choices a writer makes as he/she tells his/her story. (To which I replied, “Simply?”)

To visualize that concept, I sometimes picture a giant pachinko machine (or the Plinko game on The Price is Right) when I outline my story. As the idea “ball” drops through the story, it encounters thousands of junctures where the story could go one way or the other. Unfortunately, this complexity usually freezes me up, and I’ll have to lie down for a bit to recover.

Seriously, though, that’s exactly what I do when I’m faced with a significant choice, a Path A or Path B kind of decision. I’ll step back and really think about the ramifications of each option. I’ll try to noodle through how the story will go under Scenario A, and then I’ll do the same with Scenario B (and C and D, etc.).

After I do that, I’ll flip a coin go with my gut.

Let me say that I do most of this “What Iffing” during the outline process, which makes it less likely I’ll face a significant decision point during the actual writing. But it happens once in a while (I welcome those flashes of inspiration with open fingers), and when it does, I’ll go lie down for a bit to think it over. Ah, the possibilities.

Of course, if the chosen twist turns out NOT to work out in the end, I’ll go back and revise my story until I get it right.

Pachinko, anyone?

(This entry is “simul-posted” on Criminal Minds.)

Jimmy the Raisin

How and when do you decide to make a minor character recurring? Or don’t you?

Some writers are lucky enough (skilled enough?) to create characters that speak to them. The characters “tell” the writers where they want to go in the story, what they want to do, who they want to kill. Sometimes I envy those writers because my characters just sit there, like misshapen lumps of modeling clay, waiting for some kind of direction from me.

And it’s not always easy to figure out what those characters should do—I was never good with clay.

That’s why, when I do create a character that’s complex, fully-formed, and compelling, I like to keep him or her around for a while. I mean, those are the characters that are fun to write!

Thankfully, most of the “funnest” characters I’ve created are main characters who appear in every series book. But when I stumble upon a minor character who fits the bill—someone who is unique or fascinating (or humorous or dark or whatever) and is fun to write—then I’ll find a role for him or her in future books. (I’m all about the fun!)

It’s not just characters within a series that get considered for inclusion/exclusion. I took a fun-to-write character from a standalone work-in-progress and plopped him into one of my Last Laff books (with a name like Jimmy the Raisin and a face to match, how could I help myself?).

But Jimmy the Raisin didn’t seem to mind at all, or if he did, he didn’t complain to me. After all, I’m the writer, this is my show, and I can do whatever the heck I want. I don’t have to answer to anybody!

Right, Jimmy?

(This entry is “simul-posted” on Criminal Minds.)

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

If you’re looking for some great holiday gifts, have I got an idea for you!

I’ll be participating in two multi-author signing events where you can get personalized books for everyone on your gift lists!

This Saturday, December 1, I’ll be at One More Page Books (yes, that’s right, the indie bookstore where President Obama shops) at 1 p.m., along with 15 other local mystery writers (Chesapeake Chapter SinC members): Donna Andrews, David Autry, Karen Cantwell, Jacqueline Corcoran, Meriah Crawford, Maddi Davidson, E.B. Davis, Barb Goffman, Jennifer Harlow, Smita Harish Jain, C. Ellett Logan, G.M. Malliet, Sandra Parshall, Marcia Talley, and Art Taylor.

The following Saturday, December 8, from 2 – 5 p.m., I’ll be at the Grounded Coffee Shop in Alexandria, VA, with nine other local authors, in different genres. More info below:

I’d love to see you at one of these events!

What If?

From a single idea, how do you build enough
of a story to fill a book?

This question is not relevant to my writing process because the plots and characters of my novels appear to me fully-formed.

Yeah, right.

That might be true if my books were two pages long, but when I set out to write a book with 80,000+ words, I know some additional story-building is always in order.

I begin with the premise—compelling characters facing an interesting dilemma—and work outward, always looking for ways to complicate my protagonist’s quest to accomplish his/her goals. A lot of that work takes the form of What If questions. What if he discovers his father’s not really his father? What if his girlfriend turns out to be a Martian envoy sent to negotiate a peace treaty with Earth? What if he studies at the feet of the Dalai Lama, then challenges him to a duel with nunchuks? What if dogs could talk and walk on two legs and drive cars, but still needed to use fire hydrants as bathrooms? (Obviously, some What If questions lead to more promising plot events than others.)

Each twist in the plot (or introduction of a new character, or move to a new setting, or back-stabbing double-cross, or whatever), yields a whole new set of possibilities going forward, so my What If exercise continues with this new set of parameters.

Rinse. Repeat. Increase the stakes.

After some time (weeks, months, eons), I’ll eventually reach The End. Then I sit back and examine what I’ve got. Usually it’s a steaming hot mess of cardboard characters, hokey plot twists, and generic settings (and those are the good parts!).

That’s when the revision process begins. I whittle away all the garbage (Martian envoy? Really?) and bolster all the good stuff. If I need more plot, I generate more What If scenarios. Slowly, painfully, things fall into place and my steaming hot mess begins to actually make sense.

At least that’s the plan.

(This entry is “simul-posted” on Criminal Minds.)

No Chianti on the First Date

What fictional character (other than one of your own)
would you like to have a fling with?

I’m a happily married man, so I don’t have flings. In fact, I don’t believe I’m even allowed to think about having flings (I’ll have to check my contract).

But, in the interest of being a good sport I suppose I could come up with a fictional character to have a fling with (you know, taking one for the team).

I wouldn’t mind, uh, getting to know Clarice Starling from Thomas Harris’s Silence of the Lambs. (Note: Definitely NOT the Clarice Starling from Hannibal. In my opinion, Harris gave her some kind of personality transplant between books.)

Clarice is enthusiastic, conscientious, physically fit, smart, brave, and tenacious. Good with firearms. And fights on the right side of the law.

What more could a guy ask for?

(This entry is “simul-posted” on Criminal Minds)