When you first start to write you get all the kick and the reader gets none, but after
you learn to work it's your object to convey everything to the reader so that he remembers
it not as a story he had read but something that happened to himself. That's the true test
of writing. When you can do that, the reader gets the kick and you don't get any. You just
get hard work and the better you write the harder it is because every story has to be better
than the last one. It's the hardest work there is. Ernest Hemingway
ONE: Motivation
Easy reading is damn hard writing.
I haven't been able to pin down exactly who said that, but I'm here to
attest to its veracity. If we want to write so that readers will pick up our work, become
submerged in it, move into our story like they are watching a movie--better still, like
they are living it--then that requires damn hard work.
So if you're looking for an easy way to fame and fortune, you might want
to consider placing this back on the shelf and tiptoeing away.
Also, it takes some knowledge to write easy reading.
Just because we can walk eight miles doesn't mean we are ready to hike
up Mount Everest. To reach the summit we'd have to learn climbing techniques, where to
drive pitons, how to cling to rock faces.
What we'd need is a Sherpa guide.
So it is with writing. Just because we can pen letters and memos doesn't
mean we can write a novel. This requires a special knowledge of building characters, working
out logical plots, handling believable dialogue--all learnable but necessary skills.
That's what this book is about.
It's a Sherpa guide up the rock face of Plot-line Mountain.
The problem with books on writing is that they are often difficult to read.
Does that sound right? Good writing should be easy to read. If we are trying to teach
easy-reading writing, shouldn't our books on writing be easy reading? Or at least
interesting reading? Leaf through this book. If you are having trouble reading it, hey,
toss it onto the shelf. It probably means I don't know what I'm talking about.
There are also some dangers lurking here.
Fiction writing is addictive.
You laugh, but once I started building worlds on paper I found there was
always a force calling me back. It didn't make any difference how many failures I had,
how many rejection slips I collected--more than my share--how many times I smashed up
typewriters or suffered through hard drive crashes, I could never turn off that seductive
siren call that still wafts across the water on my brain, whispering how big my next novel
will be. Oh, yeah.
So unless you're serious about stringing words together, jam this book back
in the stack.
Fiction writing is also coolie labor. I'm on my computer first thing in the
morning and many times I'm still there, with breaks for food and naps, till nine or ten at
night. This for a salary that would turn away day workers in Bangladesh.
So if your thought is to pop out a few fast mysteries and make some easy
bucks, well, do I still have to tell you what to do with this book?
Writing is like painting, or playing an oboe, or maybe even like basketball.
If you want to be good at it, you practice everyday, often not knowing whether you're getting
better or worse. And it isn't about success. Of all those out there trying, how many actually
make it to the NBA? Or play oboe in a major orchestra? Writing is a hunger not dependent on
money or admiration. And not so much on talent, folks. Talent is cheap. It's persistence that
wins the day, the dogged struggle to be better, to find another way of conveying feeling, joy
and sorrow, light and darkness, of colors playing in the shadows. In the end, it's the
struggle that becomes the mission. And I keep at it because, when it's right, those rare
moments when it's on, and an idea or a phrase comes drifting out of the ether so startling
I have to say, "Wow, where did that come from," and I know it's a keeper; it's like being
touched by God.
This book is an expedition through the briars and brambles that link those
rare moments together. It will not guarantee that you will make big bucks, or even be
published by a non-fee press. I would be less than honest if I didn't tell you, contrary to
what is splashed across magazines and book covers, the odds are stacked against that. What
this journey will do is give you the tools to help you become the best writer you can be,
to solve some of the problems of which Hemingway said, "We are all apprentices in a craft
where no one ever becomes a master."
If you feel like it, climb aboard.
There's talent and there's potential. Potential is what you make of your talent.
Lance Armstrong, three time winner
Tour de France
TWO: Welcome Aboard
No one can teach you to write fiction.
Say what?
Then why did I buy this book?
Because we can point out the elements that are necessary to go
into good fiction. Like drawing characters that live and breathe in our readers'
minds. Plots that unfold like a movie in our readers' minds. Dialogue that rings
as true as the spoken words in our readers' minds.
That's the fiction writer's field of play.
We're not in the business of TELLING stories.
We're in the business of building images in our readers'
minds and bundling them together to SHOW a story.
When you stop to think about it, that's probably the whole reason
language was invented in the first place.
For essentials man could always get by with an odd word here or there.
Bread. Water. Meat. Sex. Headache.
Ah, but when he came back to his cave and wanted tell his woman and
children the story of the hunt, it required taking the pictures in the storyteller's mind
and building them in the listener's mind. To do that he not only had to evoke images of
things the listener knew, but also of things the listener had never imagined. To do that,
he had to string words together. And to do that, he needed language.