Juliet Kincaid

Characterization in THE CORONER’S LUNCH

Yesterday, I’m happy to report, I finished revising Part 1 of the WiP. It took two fast passes in 34 days, averaging 7.5 pages a day. At 26,000 words and 127 manuscript pages, it’s longer than in any previous drafts, partly because I’ve moved three scenes out of the much-too-long Part 2 into Part 1 where they belong since they provide back story on the villain.

Before I start the next part, I’ll get some readers for Part 1 and also do some other things, like probably buy a new computer to replace my current antique, obsolete long ago. I’ll talk more about those “other things” when I’ve done them.

In revising Part I, I paid attention to characterization. I’ll continue to do so in revising the rest of the WiP because I completely changed a set of characters halfway through the previous draft and because characterization doesn’t particularly come easy for me.

Among the authors whose books I’ve read so far this year, no one presents characters more skillfully than Colin Cotterill.

THE CORONER’S LUNCH introduces Dr. Siri Paiboun. At seventy-two, Dr. Siri hoped for retirement, but instead he’s been appointed Chief Coroner of Communist Laos, a dysfunctional country like James Church’s North Korea. Every Friday, Dr. Siri must report to his boss, Haeng, an administrator so young he still has zits.

Haeng’s face is an example of one of Cotterill’s indeliable, compact characterizations. Whenever we see Siri reporting to a young man with a bad complexion, we know exactly who he’s talking to.

Of course, as the protagonist of a mystery series, Dr. Siri gets the full treatment. (FYI: The latest installment is SLASH AND BURN.)

We first meet the coroner in a scene. Right away, we know the old guy has a sense of humor as he muses that probably Haeng would like all deaths Dr. Siri deals with declared due to “heart failure,” even though the current subject bled to death after his legs were accidentally cut off.

Cotterill soon tells us that Paiboun has been through so much in his long life that he’s always calm and never gets angry.

On page 5, we get to see the protagonist physically. He has an unusual build and walk, and even more unusual eyes. They’re bright green, partly hidden by his bushy eyebrows, and they make Haeng so uncomfortable that he doesn’t look into them even once during the meeting. Even Dr. Siri doesn’t know everything there is to know about his eyes, but later in the book during a mystical adventure into the jungle, he finds out.

Cotterill slips in more physical details on pages 5 and 6. The doctor’s hair is white, not black other older Laotian men have because they use Chinese dye. He wears old brown sandals instead of the regulation black shoes that also come from China and thus support the Chinese economy. His white shirt has a button dangling by a thread.

After the meeting with Haeng, Dr. Siri goes home and eventually to bed, and we’re introduced to his dreams. They’ve always been strange, especially when the recently deceased appear in them as the poor guy who lost his legs did that night.

So in fewer than ten pages, Cotterill paints an indeliable, compelling portrait of his series protagonist.

Besides the back stories of how Paiboun came to be a doctor and much later, the Chief Coroner of Laos, there follow shorter introductions to Auntie Lau, who fixes his special sandwich for lunch every day; his assistant, Dtui, an overweight fan of Thai movies; and the morgue assistant Geung, who has Down Syndrome, but nevertheless knows correct autopsy procedures. At lunch on the river bank, we meet Dr. Siri’s old friend Civilai, excitable, short, skinny, bald, with big glasses. Civilai looks like a rickshaw driver instead of the politician high up in the Communist Party that he is.

Other memorable characters abound in THE CORONER’S LUNCH. And using Cotterill’s example, I introduced a new character in Part 1 of the WiP through clothing, walk, build, and the character’s inner life, especially his fears shown in his dialogue. What fun!

NEXT TIME: A change of pace

Meanwhile, Happy Reading and Writing, Best, Juliet

WiP Report # 9

When I posted WiP Report # 8 on December 15, 2011, I’d reached the midpoint of my book. And now I’m happy to say that I’ve completed the draft I was working on. Still, the book is too long, the second story arc has twice as many pages as it should, and it took me took long to write this draft. But hey, it’s done. I mean to make the next draft the last one. And I mean to start it soon.

Meanwhile, I’m taking a break, partly to get some things done that I’ve put off like cleaning my bedroom and bath. (I still have the kitchen cabinets, the laundry room, the garage, and the storeroom off the garage to clean. And now that it’s spring, the garden and lawn call, too.)

I’ve also cleared the story boards and unneeded scene cards for Draft 5 off the corkboard though it’s still pretty cluttered with, for example, an envelope stuffed with scene cards for the final draft and just today, the story board for the first two arcs.

And I’ve straightened out the home office enough to find new spots for notebooks I don’t need to use often and so make room for the new notebooks I’ll be filling. (I’m planning a major cleaning of the home office for when I really finish the book.)

I’m also gearing up to start the last draft.

Much as I love my old workhorse of a computer, it’s been obsolete for years so I can no longer post to my own Facebook page using it, for instance. When I try, what I call “the white screen of death” yawns open and I get no farther, so we’re investigating options for a new computer.

Also, I’m doing some research for the final draft. And yes, I’m employing the Kinsey Millhone Principle I referred to in my previous blog installment by taking or printing notes on my discoveries.

Recently I used the Helen Hawthorne Principle of research, too. Now, early in the WiP in all earlier drafts, my protagonist makes ink from ash. So, I decided to clean my fireplace to see how that would go. Well, I tell you, honey, it took just one look at my fireplace to realize that oh no, my girl wouldn’t make ink. She’d write with the bits and pieces of charcoal she finds in the ashes. What a no-brainer! This just goes to show you how important hands-on research can be in keeping yourself and your characters from looking like idiots.

NEXT TIME: THE ADVENTURES OF BEANBOY by Lisa Harkrader, author of award-winning children’s book, AIRBALL, and my friend and former student.

Meanwhile, happy reading and writing, Best, Juliet.

Writing the Big Scene

Synopsis of DEATH OF KINGS

The sixth of Cornwell’s Saxon Tales, DEATH OF KINGS finds Uhtred of Bebbanburg, along with most Saxons, Mercians, and Danes living in England near the end of the 9th century, waiting for Alfred the Great to die. Lots ride on this event for both Uhtred personally and for England. In the first part of the book a sorceress foretells that several kings will die in the course of coming events. Will they include Edward, Alfred’s heir, so that all that Alfred worked for will be lost?

And what will Uhtred do? Though he’s a Saxon, he was brought up by Danes. Given Uhtred’s long-time ambivalence toward the Christian king and the priests he supports, Uhtred might very well go home to reclaim Bebbanburgh, his birthright stolen from him by his uncle. I’m not telling the outcome except as expected, King Alfred dies.

The big scene

In a scene that completes a story line developed throughout the first half of the book, and just before Alfred’s death, the King calls Uhtred into his presence, along with about fifty blue million other characters, many with weird Anglo-Saxon names, including Æthelhelm, Æthelflaed, Æthelgifu, Æthelweard, Æthelnoth, and Æthelwold, plus Ælswith, King Alfred’s wife. Also mentioned is Ælfthryth, one of his daughters, who isn’t present. Given the number of characters whose names begin with Æ, her absence is a really good thing.

Now when I was reading DEATH OF KINGS, I was also at the point in my WiP where I needed to write a big scene with lots of characters. I was nervous about it. Throughout the draft of the book I’d whittled down the cast of characters for scenes to two and three as often as I could. But toward the end of the book it became inevitable that I bring almost of all of the characters together for the big show-down. (I’m just really happy that my characters’ names aren’t much alike, but hey, Cornwell had to work with what history gave him.)

Techniques I learned from Cornwell’s big scene.

Cornwell did very well in his big scene. For one thing, several of the Æthels are Alfred’s family members, so he worked them into the scene together. (FYI: This scene begins after the first page-break in Chapter Six, if you want to read along.)

The hall for this scene in the DEATH OF KINGS is crowded as is the town square where my big scene takes place. Cornwell groups some characters together like a half-dozen lords and members of Alfred’s council without individualizing them. I did the same for the town’s mayor and aldermen.

As Cornwell did with recurring characters, I added identifiers like relationship names and bits of description like to remind the reader of who my characters were. At times, Cornwell donates more than a few words to a character. For example, Uhtred’s son gets a whole paragraph.

Now, I’m writing the first book of two (probably), not the sixth in a series, so, unlike Cornwell, I didn’t have to remind readers of events that happened years before. But I did need to tie up some loose ends in my story from the past six months or so before I launched my heroine into the final confrontation with the villain of the piece. For this, I used a technique similar to the one Cornwell uses. For instance, one of my characters, a very small blonde, lost her glasses earlier, and in my big scene I told how she got a new pair before I quickly related her plans for the near future.

Though many of the characters in his big scene were familiar, Cornwell does introduce a completely new character, a scribe copying a document. Uhtred wonders about what the scribe is doing. It turns out to be an important turning point in the book. Following Cornwell’s example, in my big scene I parceled out some details to build tension and the reader’s curiosity.

I take one last lesson from this important scene in DEATH OF KINGS. Like Uhtred’s, my character’s heart is tugged in two directions, between her inner need to return home at once to her loved ones and the outer need to stay a little longer to help resolve the dire situation facing others.

I hope to show her doing this as powerfully and with as much grace as Uhtred does at the turning point of DEATH OF KINGS.

NEXT TIME: WiP Report # 9

Meanwhile, happy reading and writing. Best, Juliet

A.K.A. Research for Mystery Writers (and Readers)

You have a great idea for a mystery. Your detective talks to you. She’s feeding you great plot ideas. The problem? She says she’s an arborist. That has something to do with trees, right? Beyond that you know nothing, so you must research the topic. For help in finding the information you need to write your mystery, use the following principles and tips.

# 1 the Kinsey Millhone Principle: Write down what you know.

The detective of Sue Grafton’s Alphabet mysteries usually makes notes on a case after she’s worked on it for a while, but starting a research project with a writing session on what you know helps you identify what you need to find out.

Tip: Buy a loose-leaf binder that will hold 500 to 700 full sized pages for the photocopies and print-outs you collect. Soon, you’ll have a customized reference book for the project.

# 2 the Ellie Haskell Principle: Start big.

Like the protagonist of Dorothy Cannell’s THE THIN WOMAN before she went on a diet, start your research big and broad. That is, get an overview of the subject from a general source like an on-line encyclopedia or other reference book. Though you probably won’t use this type of source in your mystery, it will give you ideas of where to look for material you will use.

Tip: the Writer’s Digest Books Howdunit series provide overviews of assorted areas of investigation. Titles include Anne Wingate’s SCENE OF THE CRIME: A WRITER’S GUIDE TO CRIME-SCENE INVESTIGATION.

# 3 the Kay Scarpetta Principle: Get close.

Sooner or later, you’ll have to get up really close to information. If not Patricia Cornwell’s medical examiner’s microscope, then at least you might need a magnifying glass to figure out, for example, what exactly that street name was in your photocopy.

Tip: buy 3” x 5” cards and a file box for them to record the specific sources you’ve consulted during your research so you don’t keep consulting the same ones.

# 4 the Stephanie Plum Principle: Shoot your mouth off.

In mysteries like ONE FOR THE MONEY, Janet Evanovich’s bounty hunter gets her family members, one or both lovers, business associates, and all sorts of acquaintances in on the action. When I’m working on a project, I tell lots of people about it–the sooner the better and the more the better because I can’t predict who knows some piece of information I could use in my mystery. Note: when you use the Stephanie Plum Principle, you create a sort of contract with everyone you’ve told about your project, so you’re more likely to complete it.

Tip: give business cards or bookmarks describing your project and your contact information to everyone you meet.

Tip: tell experts in the field you’re researching about your project. For instance, one of my former students, now a police officer, told me exactly what the first officer at a crime scene must do.

Tip: tell a librarian what you’re working on. Once I complained to a librarian that I couldn’t find old maps for my historical mystery. Within seconds, I held a microfilm reel of the Sanborn Fire Insurance maps of my city, block by block, as it was in the late 19th century.

Tip: Don’t limit your research to print sources.

# 5 the Emily Andrews Principle: Know your settings.
Like the protagonist of Maddie Hunter’s Passport to Peril mysteries, go to the places you’re writing about. Walk along the streets. Visit the buildings, outside and inside. Sniff the air around the vats in that brewery you need to include.

Tip: Take your camera, preferably digital.

Tip: Take at least one friend with you to notice things you might not and to drive while you look.

Tip: If you can’t travel to a setting, Google it. Cyberspace offers a wealth of information about places including virtual museums and access to photograph, postcard, and map collections.

Tip: check your phone directory. For instance, I’ve discovered that my community has nearly fifty museums including the world’s only Hair Museum.

# 6 the Helen Hawthorne Principle: Do it.

The heroine of Elaine Viet’s Dead End Job mysteries learns by doing. Even if you never perform the process yourself, you should have a clear idea of how to do any process you want to include in your mystery.

Tip: Check out craft classes, re-enactment groups and living museums for hands-on demonstrations. For instance, an indigo-dyeing workshop taught me something I couldn’t imagine: as you pull yarn out of the dirty-diaper-brown dye bath into the air, a glorious, vibrant blue runs up the yarn like magic.

# 7 the V. I. Warshawski Principle: Hang in there.

The dogged protagonist of Sara Paretsky’s mysteries follows clues, interviews witnesses, visits and revisits the scene of the crime, places all the bits of information she’s gathered into a pattern, survives beatings and other perils until she solves the case. In like fashion, you must persist in your research through several drafts because, as you write, you’ll discover more subjects to research.

Tip: don’t wait to start writing till you’ve researched your topic so exhaustively you’re bored with it.

Tip: If, as you write, you come upon a scene that requires considerable research like a field trip, note down the subject you need to explore later and move on to the next scene. Thus, you won’t interrupt the flow of writing or write a scene you have to scrap later.

#8 the Beatrix Potter Principle: Live it.

In writing THE TALE OF HILL TOP FARM and others in the Cottage Tales series, Susan Wittig Albert is recreating the life, times, the city and countryside of Beatrix Potter. Most remarkably, Albert is making the mind of the beloved children’s author and illustrator come back to life.

You too must immerse yourself in your subject and learn everything you can about it until you can walk the walk of your characters, talk their talk, breathe the air of their world, and think their thoughts. And if you employ well what you learn from your research, your readers will live in the world you make for them.

(Under the title “Research for Mystery Writers: General Principles and Specific Tips,” this article appeared in the December 2011 issue of InSinC, the national Sisters in Crime quarterly newsletter.)

Next time: Bernard Cornwell’s DEATH OF KINGS

Meanwhile, happy reading and writing. Best, Juliet

The Power of Questions in Writing Fiction

Asking the right question at the right time can be very effective in writing fiction. Here are some questions you can ask.

What if?

This question is especially useful when you’re starting a story, a novel, or even a series of books. For instance, Gary Corby might very well have launched his mystery series set in Ancient Greece with the question, What if Socrates had an older brother who works as an investigator for Pericles?

For another instance, the first story I wrote in the series that ultimately led to the WiP started with the question, What if Cinderella becomes a detective twenty years, three kids and a few extra pounds after the ball?

Who wants what?

This is a vital question a writer can (and probably should) ask when starting a project since the answer focuses the work tightly on the protagonist and his/her goal. For example, what does Nicolaos want in THE IONIA SANCTION? He wants to clear the name of a murdered man by retrieving a letter stolen by the murderer.

In “Cinderella, P. I.,” the first in the series, our heroine wants to find her fairy godmother’s wand stolen by culprit or culprits unknown.

Those are the outer goals of the characters. But they have others.

Recently, in an excellent workshop, Nancy Pickard, award-winning author of THE VIRGIN OF SMALL PLAINS and THE SCENT OF RAIN AND LIGHTNING, pointed out that protagonists need both outer and inner goals. Giving them the latter can make good books into great ones.

She also pointed out that in Sue Grafton’s Alphabet mysteries, for example, Kinsey Millhone always has the outer need to solve the mystery of whichever book Grafton’s writing, from A to V so far. But Kinsey also has an on-going inner need that appears in every book: She wants order in her life.

In similar fashion, Nicolaos wants to solve the individual mysteries of both THE PERICLES COMMISSION and THE IONIA SANCTION, but in both books he needs to prove he can do the work Pericles has asked him to do and thus show he’s not a callow young fool.

Now just this morning I had an epiphany about my private investigator. In every one of the stories and the WiP as well, she needs to prove she’s not just a pretty princess, lying around all day eating bonbons. She’s got a brain and she wants to use it to help others.

It’s always a good idea to answer the “Who wants what?” question with your antagonist as well. From the answer you’ll get conflict and plot developments. For instance, in THE IONIA SANCTION, the murderer wants to get away from Nicolaos in the early part of the book, and exactly who wanted the letter back in the first place shapes the book.

Not only do I use this question to start a piece of fiction, but I also find that posing this question helps me create the individual scenes of a story and repair botched ones, too.

What are other questions could you ask when you write fiction?

Besides “Who wants what?” the fiction writer might ask whether your protagonist get what he wants. “No, and what’s more” or “Yes, but” are usually much better answers than “Oh, sure” or “Piece of cake.”

Before starting a scene you probably should also ask yourself who all is present in the scene, whether you need them all, where the scene takes place, and when.

Since I started writing this blog, I’ve learned many useful lessons from professional authors and so I often ask myself as I work on the WiP, especially when I’m stuck or dissatisfied: How would ________ play this scene?

The answer varies. Robert B. Parker would have done it mostly with dialogue. Marion Chesney would do it as economically as possible. Jasper Fforde would keep it light.

Let me introduce my last question by describing a card (Hallmark, to give proper credit) I bought recently for a friend who seemed a little down. On the outside, across the silhouette of a big muscular bull with a ring in his nose went the caption: I’m thinking about starting an Adopt-an ex-rodeo-bull-as-a-pet program. And on the inside, the card said

What could possibly go wrong?

This is a great question a fiction writer can pose when figuring out complications for the plot, that is, obstacles to the protagonist getting what he or she wants.

Gary Corby provides an excellent model early in THE IONIA SANCTION. At the end of the previous part, Nicolaos has set the clear goal of catching Araxes, the murderer, before he gets out the gate of Athens and into the walled road that leads to the port city of Piraeus.

What could possibly go wrong?

For starters, the slave Nico ordered to meet him at dawn kicks him. On the way to the gate, Nico steps in sewage. Near the gate, Nico has trouble locating the suspect, who has covered his white hair with a cloak. Then when Nico does find him, the bad guy knocks a dead body on top of Nico, stabs a guard, hits another one, and drives the cart through the gate. Even more things go wrong once Nico’s through the gate after the villain for a total of over twenty ever-worsening complications in fewer than nine pages. But I won’t spoil your fun by describing any more of them. Read THE IONIA SANCTION and find out for yourself.

Next time: “The Kinsey Millhone and Other Principles.”

Until then happy reading and writing. Best, Juliet

Keeping It Fresh

Not long ago, I read a cozy by an author whose mysteries I’ve read and enjoyed before. But this time, I couldn’t help but notice how formulaic it was. And don’t forget, you get no author-slams from me, so I won’t tell you the title. Besides, you probably have read this book too, though by a different author and with a different name.

Same old, same old

You know the type. Set in a quaint little country town, it has an amateur detective who must endlessly explain why she’s putting her life on the line by doing the work of the police. The victim is someone who goes around being insufferable and mean in the first part of the book, so you know that sure as shooting (or hanging or not-so-accidental death) that she or he is a goner by plot point 1, if not sooner. And soon the body is discovered by, you guessed it, the amateur detective.

So when I read Marcia Talley’s A QUIET DEATH not much later, I was delighted and pleased to find it wasn’t the same old, same old. For one thing, this book is set in and around Washington, D. C.

Now, as in the other book, Hannah Ives, the protagonist, is an amateur detective, but the big difference is she’s not investigating a murder. What she’s trying to discover is something else entirely.

A brief synopsis of A QUIET DEATH

As Hannah Ives travels home from a fund-raiser on the Metro, there’s a horrible accident. Hannah Ives hears a dying man confess that he killed someone. And later on, Hannah finds a bag that he carried among her possessions retrieved from the wreck. Hannah spends the first half of the book tracking down the letter writer and the attractive young couple in the pictures, taken decades before, so she can tell them that the young man has died. And I thoroughly enjoyed her unique journey.

“Plucked from the headlines!”

Well, no, Talley didn’t get her ideas from the newspaper, but from the television screen. These ideas included not only the wreck, horrendously and thrillingly described in the opening pages, but a story of several young women found murdered in D. C. area parks, a smooth and confident t. v. commentator, and even an extreme hoarder’s house that. . . . Well, no spoilers either, but what happens with the house is really, really wonderful and exciting.

And one more thing

I also noticed that instead of a single confidant/sidekick, as for instance, a Hawk to Robert B. Parker’s Spencer, Talley gives that job to a number of different friends and relatives Hannah takes with her as she tries to locate the couple in the photos. This technique adds surprises to the book as well.

Altogether, Marcia Talley’s A QUIET DEATH provides many examples of how mystery writers can enliven and freshen their fiction instead reworking the same old, same old.

NEXT TIME: another lesson from Gary Corby’s THE IONIA SANCTION

Till then, happy reading and writing. Best, Juliet

Nicolaos, Good plot driver

Actually if Nicolaos, the protagonist of Gary Corby’S THE IONIA SANCTION, lived in America today instead of in Athens in 460 B. C., he’d probably get picked up for a DUI after he has girl troubles and gets falling down drunk. But he’s an excellent driver of the plot in the second in Corby’s historical mystery series that started with THE PERICLES COMMISSION.

(Note: if you like historical mysteries like Lindsay Davis’s lively, well researched, yet light Falco series set in Ancient Rome, you’ll probably like Corby’s series, too.)

But now I have to throw this piece into reverse and back up.

Some years ago at the community college where I taught, we had an exchange professor from China who wanted to stay in America. How come? Well, in China, she explained, men drive the life car and she longed to be in the driver’s seat for her life.

I always liked her phrase and have adapted it to this question for fiction writers: Who drives the plot car?

Mystery vs. Suspense

It’s pretty common knowledge that in mystery fiction the protagonist, the detective, drives the plot car for most of the journey though of course the antagonist leaps out of the bushes from time to time and throws obstacles in the road.

On the other hand, in suspense, the antagonist drives the plot car most of the time until the protagonist takes the wheel near the end of the journey and drives the rest of the way.

Crash!

I’ve noticed lately when I take the wheel of the plot car away from the protagonist or the antagonist, I get into trouble.

Imp vs. Ump

When I taught writing, I always explained the bicameral brain by saying you have the wild, creative and imaginative imp on the right and on the left you have the logical, orderly, and critical side. Both have their jobs. The former helps you get started, come up with ideas, get excited about the journey. The latter helps you map out the journey, find plot holes, that sort of thing.

But lately, when I’m stuck at a crossroads, instead of letting a major character figure out where the plot car should go next, either my imp grabs the wheel or my ump does.

What happens? One of two things, neither good.

When my imp takes the wheel, she laughs her head off as she drives the plot car off a cliff right into a plot hole or even worse, a cliché. When my ump takes the wheel, she turns the plot car around, goes back, and parks by the side of the road while she erects signs to plot developments three hundred pages down the pike in the next book.

(Arc 3 of the WiP took a long time to write due to these wrecks and detours. But I’m happy to say that once I asked my favorite drafting question, “Who wants what in this scene?”, I got my protagonist or antagonist back in the driver’s seat and finally I’ve arrived in Arc 4.)

Back to Nicolaos

In both books of his series, Gary Corby very wisely keeps his protagonist in the driver’s seat most of the time except when the antagonist takes the wheel or the reins, I should say, as for example, in the first chapter of THE IONIA SANCTION when Nicolaos madly pursues Araxes, the villain driving a horse cart down the walled road between Athens and the port city of Piraeus.

Now, basically, Nicolaos is a screw-up. He usually messes up whatever he plans to do. For instance, later in the story, he buys a magnificent horse named Ajax. But the first time Nicolaos tries to ride Ajax, the horse throws him off. It’s sort of like a kid these days who buys a souped-up muscle car, presses the pedal to the metal, and drives the car into a ditch.

And Nicolaos isn’t so smart. Both the girls in his life are way smarter than he is. His kid brother is, too. (But his brother happens to be Socrates, so that’s understandable.)

Still, regardless of his flaws, it’s Nicolaos, with his determination to clear a murdered man’s name, who drives the plot car of THE IONIA SANCTION from start to finish.

NEXT TIME: Marcia Talley’s A QUIET DEATH

Until then, happy reading and writing. Best, Juliet

“Oh, no!” I cried, sitting up in bed at 3 a. m. “There’s a hole in my plot!”

How did that happen? I wondered though I figured it out pretty fast. When I got into Arc 3 of the WiP, I decided to move a big house with lots of bedrooms to Arc 4. In exchange for the big house in Arc 3, I popped in a charming little cottage with one bedroom in the charming little attic. But then, I realized in the middle of the night, the villain no longer had a place to sleep in Arc 3.

Crap!

Now, plot holes are fairly common hazards for writers. In fact, I once heard a fairly well known author say at a conference that sooner or later every writer comes to an implausible plot development in every book. For instance, the hero of a best-seller jumps out of a plane using a tarpaulin for a parachute. Oh, no, honey, he’d be jelly in the street, not up and running after the bad guy.

For another example, in an installment of a popular series, the villain gets the hypnotized victim to swallow her tongue and quietly die without thrashing around. Not likely to happen. If the Epilepsy Foundation says you can’t swallow your tongue during a seizure, chances are low that you can do it at all.

The authors of the books I just mentioned are well established, so chances are they won’t lose readers or quit making the big bucks. We writers aspiring to break into publishing don’t get that sort of break.

But as a long-time fiction reader and writer, I believe plot holes are avoidable. Just look at Sue Grafton’s impeccably plotted A IS FOR ALIBI through U IS FOR UNDERTOW. (I haven’t read V IS FOR VENGEANCE yet, but I’m willing to bet it doesn’t have plot holes either.)

So here are some ways to fix or avoid plot holes I’ve thought of so far.

1) Before you start a book, have a clear idea of your destination.

Here we get into the question of whether to outline or just write the book from the seat of your pants. The former might very well take the life out of your project. With the latter, you might get lost.

I always liked what Lawrence Block, author of THE BURGLER IN THE CLOSET and others in the Bernie Rhodenbarr series, said in that regard. Do outline or make a story board, but consider whichever one you make as a road map and feel free to detour if that will improve the journey.

2) Before you start a revision, read what you wrote before, slowly and carefully, to locate plot holes in it.

This is advice I should take more often, for typically, not long after I complete a draft, I tear off down the road again, as often as not, right into a plot hole I made in the previous draft.

3) Before you make a change in any draft after the first, think it through, or better yet, brainstorm the idea on paper.

The other day I wrote a new page that described this wicked, chandelier that had glowing red, little devils dancing in each lamp on it. (Hey, my WiP has a strong fantasy element. I can put in devils if I want.) But after I thought about the chandelier, I realized I didn’t want to give the character who devised it that much power, so I zipped out the chandelier and put another kind in. Two days later I took out the room both chandeliers lighted because I realized that whole chapter was a plot hole.

I’m sighing because sometimes it seems like the journey my WiP is taking me on will never end. But then I smile. I wouldn’t be traveling on this road if I didn’t love it.

But back to the plot hole that woke me up the other night.

Even though the house-moving I’ve done in Arcs 3 and 4 of the WiP has caused problems, I think it’s worth it because my characters got too comfortable too soon when the nice house was in Arc 3. So I’m currently brainstorming places for the villain to bed down. Or hey, maybe he never sleeps. Hmm, do you think that line of thought might lead to a plot hole?

CAUTION!

It’s not a good idea to go back and patch plot holes when you’re in the middle of a draft because you’ll end up spinning your wheels, so you might never finish your journey at all. Instead, flag the plot hole to fix in the next draft, and continue writing the current draft as if you’d fixed it.

4) Work on the WiP everyday.

Plot holes in my book tend to develop when I’ve lost my momentum due to doing other things instead of writing. So I try to do at least a little something on the book every day so it stays strong and alive in my head.

5) Have someone else read the work while you’re working on it.

This goes against the common wisdom of not letting anyone read the book until you’re done, but members of my Monday Night Writers Group read my WiP and give me written feedback that I look over, then file in my project notebook along with the marked draft. I do the same for them. I’ve found that sometimes a question or observation from an alert reader can point out a plot hole that already exists or might develop if I keep headed in the same direction.

6. Just keep on trucking, and eventually, you’ll patch all the plot holes and finish your journey.

7. Well, enough from me. Have you found a method for fixing plot holes? If so, please share it through a comment on my website instead of an e-mail to me, so we can all learn from you.

Finally, thanks, Robert J. Ray!

Robert J. Ray, author of THE WEEKEND NOVELIST, THE WEEKEND NOVELIST WRITES A MYSTERY (with Jack Remick), and THE WEEKEND NOVELIST REWRITES A NOVEL is one of my writing heroes. He has honored me by putting a link from Bob and Jack’s Writing Blog. And before Christmas he sent me a message through Facebook saying that the followers of his and Mr. Remick’s blog struggle with plot. He asked about what I mean by story arcs, how long they should be, etc. And partly to answer his questions, I’ve written this blog.

NEXT TIME: Gary Corby’s THE IONIA SANCTION

Meanwhile, happy writing, Juliet