How to Write a Review on Amazon

When asking people to review my book on Amazon, I've heard people say, "I'd like to, but I don't know how to write a  review on Amazon." I can relate. When you look at the website, it can be a bit overwhelming. However, the truth is, writing a review on Amazon is actually very simple. Here's how it goes.

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Step 1. Sign into your account. 

If you don't have an account, create one. It only takes a minute.

2. Search for the book you want to review.

For my book, for example, you can type in Three Floating Coffins and my name Rebecca Lang, if you'd like.

Step 3. Click on the correct book.

You want to go to the main page that has all the book information, including the price, the description, and the reviews.

Step 4. Scroll down to where the customer reviews are and hit the "Write a Review" button.

On my laptop, this button appears near the top of the page, but on my phone it appears after the reviews. If there are no reviews, the button will say "Be the first to write a review."

Step 5. Give the book a star rating, write a review, and give your review a headline.

The review can be as long or as short as you like. You can talk about if you liked it or not, what you liked and didn't like, and who you recommend should read the book. You can also include videos and pictures.

Step 6. Hit "Submit."

And you're done.

You do not need to have bought the book on Amazon before you review it, meaning that if borrowed the book or bought it elsewhere, Amazon will still let you post a review. However, they do let people know when the purchase is verified, meaning that you bought the book from them. 

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So that's the quick and simple review process. Now that you know, please do me a favor and write a quick review of my book (if you've read it). It will take all of about five minutes, but it will really help me out.

Thanks!

Dissecting Fantasy: Heaven and Hell

"The mind is its own place and in itself, can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven." --John Milton

This isn't an article about the afterlife.

This is an article about writers, especially fantasy writers, creating their own representation of Heaven and Hell in their work. You can build a setting so wonderful your readers will wish they can buy a ticket there for their next vacation, or so terrible they will shiver with fear.

Heaven

"On earth there is no heaven, but there are pieces of it." --Jules Denard

Although I use Heaven in this article, for the sake of contrast, another way of putting it is Home. It's a place where your characters feel loved and accepted, usually a place of peace and truth and beauty. The beauty does not have to be extravagant or perfect. A cracked vase with a single wildflower can be more beautiful than a silver urn overflowing with roses. It's the heart put into the place that makes it special.

The importance of Heaven is twofold. First, it gives the audience some place to care about and to feel safe in. When that place is threatened, the audience feels that tension. Another use of Heaven is to manifest ideals and themes. It can be a utopia, a place to aspire to.

Some famous representations of Heaven include Hobbiton, Rivendale, and Lothlorien in the Lord of the Rings, Hogswarts in the Harry Potter series, Shangri-La in Lost Horizon. But my favorite versions of Heaven probably come from the writings of Laura Ingall Wilder, who drew such a vivid portrait of the landscape of the American pioneer, it inspired a thousand games of make-believe.

Hell

"We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell." --Oscar Wilde

Hell, by contrast, is any setting comprised primarily of pain and misery and dread. It is a place where natural human relationships are strained, perverted, or broken. It may be superficially beautiful, but it is rotten to the core. Whereas Heaven inspires the audience's love, hell provokes fear.

Hell is the ultimate obstacle. It will test your protagonist on every level. It serves as an object of dread; if Heaven is what your protagonist seeks to gain, Hell is what they want most to avoid. That said, as an author, you'd do well to toss them into Hell at least sometimes. If the hero's don't confront Hell, they don't deserve Heaven.

Hell is probably easier to write, since we have many more real world examples and since, while people might disagree on what Heaven looks like, we all have a pretty good idea of Hell. Popular examples include Mordor in Lord of the Rings, the arena in The Hunger Games (where the games are played), and, well, Hell in Dante's Inferno. My most frightening vision of Hell was in George Orwell's 1984. I had nightmares for a week.

How to Build Your Own Heaven or a Hell

1. Draw on your own loves and fears

"To different minds, the same world is a hell, and a heaven." --Ralph Waldo Emerson

Heaven is usually built on love, hell on fear.

When you start to draw these places up, you should begin with yourself, what you love, what you fear. If you simply steal the trappings of other people's visions of heaven and hell, without bringing in your own emotions, you'll be left with a dull facade.

For example, if you love animals, incorporate that into your version of heaven. I, personally, like art, culture, and history, so into the pot it goes. In The Changelings, I drew upon my experiences in Japan to create a festival that, for me, represented the heavenly aspect of that particular group of people.

As far as fears, I tend to draw on failure, rejection, brainwashing, loss of control, and things of that nature. I find that cult environments play heavily in my version of hell.

Don't overdo it. Don't try to throw in everything at once. Also be careful to make sure your love and fears can appeal to a wider audience. I have a phobia abut butterflies, but I doubt I could evoke fear with a horde of raging Monarchs.

2. Location, location, location

"Go to Heaven for the climate, Hell for the company." --Mark Twain

This is a bit obvious, but Heaven and Hell are settings.

Not necessarily physical ones, though. If you're literally doing Heaven and Hell, you're dealing with the afterlife. Or you could do a dream world or a virtual reality. In cases where you're not dealing with physical limitations, you may still want to set some specific ground rules, so that your writing isn't all over the place.

If you are creating a physical landscape, what sort of environment? Land, sea, sky, underground? Hot, cold, temperate, humid? Wild or civilization? City or country? Woods, mountains, grass, swamps, river, lakes, volcano, islands?

Rather than picking and choosing places at random, you may want to look at the characters, ideas, and scenarios you already have in your head. For example, if your character is a mermaid, Hell might be a desert or any stretch of land far from the ocean. If you know your character values freedom, Hell might be a prison.

For some reason, the strongest representations of Heaven and Hell that I've read about have some element of isolation. In Heaven, this isolation protects it from evil or corrupting influences. In Hell, this isolation helps keep the evil from running rampart; but once you're there, you can't get out.

One thing you may want to consider, then, is a barrier. It can be a physical barrier, like mountains, desert, sea, or a physical wall. It can also be something more abstract, like magic, existence on a different plane of reality, secrecy, or obscurity: no one knows about this place.

3. Origins and History

"The safest road to hell is the gradual one--the gentle slope, soft underfoot, without sudden turnings, without milestones, without sign posts." --CS Lewis

I, personally, like to know the origins of everything, whether or not I share it with the readers.

If you're only dealing with a wild, natural landscape, no further explanation might be necessary. But if there's any human (or non-human) involvement, you may want to think about who built the place and why and how.

Heaven, I like to think, is built on the foundation of love, so think about what the great passion of the builders may be. What sort of ideals did they hope to embody? What obstacles did they have to overcome and sacrifices did they have to make to create the place? Are they still working to better themselves even now?

With hell, it's a bit more complicated. Unless you have beings that are pure evil, most people don't set out to build a place of pain and suffering. So what happened? What went wrong?

You could begin with a fear. People were desperate to protect themselves, and in that desperation, they did something stupid, like hand over power to a dangerous man or shut themselves into a system they can't get out of.

It might begin as a kind of bitterness or hatred to a certain group of people that grew and grew, until it became ever more demented. It might begin as a beautiful ideal that got perverted somewhere down the line. Maybe the place was a normal city, but complacency and indifference allowed criminals to take over. Maybe greed got the better of the people.

There's all sorts of scenarios you could come up with.

4. How Did I Get Here?

"To be willing to march into Hell for a Heavenly Cause" --from Man of La Mancha

So now that you've got your Heaven and Hell, it's time to think about how your character gets to these places. One of the simplest ways is to have your character start off in either your version of Heaven or Hell. That way, one location is given right off the bat.

A person starting off in Heaven might experience a fall from grace and be ejected or they might voluntarily leave to seek out greener pastures (before discovering there's no place like home) or they might be forced away from their Heaven in order to protect it, rather like a soldier might.

They might be violently ripped away: captured, kidnapped, enslaved, orphaned. Or it might be that Heaven gets destroyed from the beginning and they might have to seek a new paradise or build one from scratch.

On the other hand, they might start off in Hell. An orphan or slave might, through brains, cunning, skill, spirit, daring, or sheer luck, find himself propelled out of his horrible situation. Or, perhaps he, like his Heaven counterpoint, is forced out, due to war or other external forces. Maybe he's rescued from his situation.

Another option is for a character to stay in the same basic place, but have either that place, or their perception of that place, change. Even Heaven can become Hell, if taken over by bad management, as Hogwarts was under Voldemort. Or perhaps the character starts off thinking they're in Heaven or in Hell, but as they see more of the world, they get a new perspective.

Perhaps a great catastrophe comes to the place. War, for example, can make even the most peaceful place into a Hell. Or it could be a natural disaster or (in the case of virtual reality) maybe some bug in the system.

If, however, a character actually has to seek out Heaven or Hell, consider why. Hell usually pops up as an obstacle the character must go through in order to get to Heaven, but if the character intentionally seeks it out, there must be a reason.

In classical myth, heroes make trips to the underworld (Hell) in order to retrieve a loved one's soul or to seek the advice of one long dead. There can be valuable treasures in Hell, as well, enough to make the trip seem tempting. Or perhaps they want to destroy Hell and can only do it from the source.

The last thing to consider is that the character may never actually enter Heaven or Hell. The places may exist as an aspiration or as a threat, and maybe the mere mention of them is enough.

5. What Can Threaten Heaven?

"If you're going through hell, keep going." --Winston Churchill

Heaven, at least the kind found on earth, usually has a sense of fragility to it. Whatever is good and peaceful and loving and beautiful can always be destroyed. One of my favorite passages from Lost Horizon sums up this fragility nicely:

"It came to him that a dream had dissolved, like all too lovely things, at the first touch of reality; that the whole world's future, weighed in the balance against youth and love, would be light as air. And he knew, too, that his mind dwelt in a world of its own, Shangri-La in microcosm, and that this world was also in peril. For even as he nerved himself, he saw the corridors of his imagination twist and strain under impact; the pavilions were toppling; all was about to be in ruins."

In this case, it takes only a shift in the hero's perception, that causes the whole thing to collapse. One generation might build their ideal, only for the next generation to reject it. Passions cool, causes are abandoned, community ties become too much work. People leave.

Of course, it might, more directly, be attacked.

Hell, like any good enemy fortress, likes to appear unassailable, but, unless you're writing a depressing Dystopia in the vein of 1984, it usually has some weakness built into it. If Hell is built on deceit and people discover the truth, that power is broken. If it is built on fear and people find courage, that power is broken. If it is built on hatred and people forgive, that power is broken.

Change can happen anywhere and in the blink of an eye.

Character Archetypes: Trickster

Lately, I've been playing with an idea for a girl who uses a magical ring to change her appearance and lead a double life. Diamond, as I call her, likes to be at times beautiful, at times plain, at times rich, at times poor, at times the center of attention, at times practically invisible. She uses these dual roles to get what she wants. She's a trickster.

Which got me thinking. What is a trickster? What makes them tick? How do they pull off their mad plans and what roles can they take in the story?

Definition

"A trickster is a character who plays tricks or otherwise disobeys normal rules and conventional behavior. The Trickster openly questions and mocks authority, encourages impulse and enthusiasm, seeks out new ideas and experiences, destroys convention and complacency, and promotes chaos and unrest." So sayeth TV Tropes, my authority on archetypes.

Put another way, a trickster is the polar opposite of your typical law-abiding hero. He trades relatability for unpredictability. You might not approve of what a trickster does, but darned if hhe doesn't make things interesting. And therein lies both the risk and reward of writing one. You may have to push the boundaries of what is acceptable in order to give the character life.

Characters In-Depth

I want to look at what makes other trickster characters tick. T.V. tropes offers a wonderful list of examples, but for my intents and purposes, I want to study tricksters I know very well, so I've chosen one trickster I watch every Sunday and another I wrote an awesome fanfiction about.

Rumpelstiltskin (Once Upon a Time--TV series)

In a show chock full of magicians, Rumplestiltskin is arguably the most powerful of all. Though he's known as "The Dark One," he's not really into taking over the world or committing acts of genocide. Instead he watches on the sidelines, offering deals to heroes and villains alike. If you need something, he'll give it to you... but often at a price.

The deals are the source of his trickster power. Every single one is made to his benefit and few are what they seem. Sometimes, Rumpelstiltskin seems to promise one thing, only to deliver something else. Sometimes he asks for small tokens in return for powerful magic: name, a cloak, a strand of hair. They will be important later on. Rumpelstiltskin works the long game like no one else in the show. It took him several hundred years to put his grand scheme into action, but he did succeed.

Nabiki Tendo (Ranma 1/2Anime/ Manga)

Almost everyone in Ranma 1/2 is a rock-splitting, high-flying super martial artists, half the characters are cursed, and the rest are more than willing to use magic objects lying around for their own nefarious purpose. (It should be noted, this is a comedy, so said purpose includes anything from growing hair to making someone fall in love.)  In this world, Nabiki Tendo is an anomaly. She doesn't fight or dabble with magic. Yet, when something stands between her and money, she will destroy heaven and earth and poor hero Ranma to get it.

Whereas everyone else uses physical force, only Nabiki relies on manipulation to get her way. She blackmails, spills secrets, sells things the heroes might want. To keep from getting hurt, she plays up her own weakness and her strategic position as the sister of Ranma's girlfriend. Nabiki knows Ranma will be obliged to save her from the chaos, even if she's the one who created it. If worse comes to worse, she'll whip out the crocodile tears, pretending she's hopeless in love or wounded by the hero's actions. Then, as he stands paralyzed, she'll strike like a viper, wheeling and dealing not two feet behind his back.

Personality Traits

Deceptive

All tricksters lie. If they don't fib outright, they tell half-truths or leave out important information. It's impossible to play tricks without deception. But aside from that, this may have a defensive purpose. They know the power of getting inside someone's head; they don't want that to happen to them. So they feign indifference about the things they care about, mask anger with a smile, and lie about their motives. Some may go all out and pretend to be crazy. They want to seem unpredictable, as that is their greatest asset.

Student of Psychology

Tricksters are smart. Not in a memorize-the-Internet way or a make-robot-out-of-soupcan way. Their power derives from psychology. They can predict how people will react. This isn't done by reading books, but by going out and studying them. The trickster doesn't hide out in a tower, he interacts with the masses. And if he finds a special subject of particular interest, you can be sure he will unwrap their loves, desires, weaknesses, and philosophy on life.

Master of Planning and of Improv

Tricksters can draw up insanely complicated plans and abandon them in an instant. Maybe they say that everything is going to plan. Maybe they say they have no plan at all. These are lies. Think of any prank or surprise party you've pulled off. You need to figure out what you want to do and how to pull it off. So you plan. But something goes wrong. So you improvise. Tricksters must do both, and do them so well it comes off as effortless.

Playful

Tricksters generally don't take themselves too seriously, and ultimately, this is their saving grace. An evil mastermind will pull off a complicated schemes in hopes of ruling the world. Tricksters usually settle for a few bucks, a shiny object, and maybe some amusement. Even dangerous tricksters tend to be witty, charming, and amusing. They force you to like them--perhaps their greatest trick of all.

How to Play a Trick

The Motive

Why are they playing the trick? That's the first thing a writer must consider. Reasons can range from great to petty: trying to prove a point, trying to win a bet, boredom, money, a valuable object, love, greed, vengeance, justice, freedom. They may, of course, say they want one thing (like money) but really want something else (like vengeance). Or their motive may evolve alongside the prank.

The Victim

Who are they playing the trick on? Bear in mind, the choice of victim may shine a light on the trickster's psyche. Does he chose people he admires or loathes? Does he pick easy marks or go for a challenge? Even if he chooses at random, he may adjust the trick according to the person.

The Set Up

You cannot just pull off a trick in a void. You need to make sure the circumstances are just right. In The Dark Knight, the Joker had to carefully cultivate an atmosphere of terror. In Ocean's Eleven, Danny Ocean had to make sure he had the right people in the right spot at the right time. Costumes are dawned, mirrors polished, smoke blown. Even magicians aren't exempt. They may be able to wave their hands and come up with any scenario they want, but first they need to think up that scenario. Weirdly enough, the more powerful the being, the more they relies on rules and limits. A trick is only fun if you can get the hero to play along.

The Test (Optional)

If the trickster doesn't know their mark very well, and if they are a relatively normal person (not an immortal god), it might behove them to set up a little test in order to gauge their victims reaction. For example, in my fanfiction, I Want a Refund, Nabiki's trick relied on her victim carrying enough about her to fight for her honor. To test this out, she had him walk her home from school. Little tests like this are a good way to foster trickster-victim interaction and make the audience wonder what's to come.

The Strike

This is where things go boom.

Now tricks can take many forms, but its usually vital for the trickster to insert himself in the action. No sitting in a tower for him.  First of all, the trickster knows the trick won't go off without his involvement. Second, this is where the fun is.

The Counter Strike

Tricks don't go as planned. Any simple thing might go wrong. The victim may fight back. A good trickster will roll with the punches.

The Getaway (Optional)

The problem with tricks is that, even if you succeed, you will end up with a huge mess and perhaps a mob of angry people. This is a good time for the trickster to make a graceful getaway, far from the chaos and the consequences.

The Lesson

Tricks are a psychological experiment. You mess with people in order to see how they'll react. If the victim is wise, he will learn something from the trick. The process may also change the trickster.

Final Thoughts

Tricksters work especially well as wild card supporting characters in long running series. Their personality adds spice and they can cause the hero plenty of stress without doing him much harm. Tricksters can be good or bad, helpful or bothersome. They can switch sides on a whim.

The question, for me, is can they work as main characters? I think so, but they may be trickier (ha) than a regular hero. The fun of a trickster is their lack of inhibition. Heroes get saddled with the weight of expectation: upholding morals, saving the world, etc. One way of balancing this is creating a secondary character who can act as the pillar of respectability, freeing the trickster to act as they want.

Another problem is the actual trick. A trickster must be like a magician, misdirecting the audience all the way until the end. Having a trickster as a point of view character risks giving up the goat too soon. However, a writer can get around this by judiciously cutting scenes or setting up the trickster as an unreliable narrator. It's a delicate art to leave out important information without annoying the reader, but it can be done.

Body of Revision

A few years ago, I read an article on Steven Pressfield's website about revising in layers.  Unfortunately, I can't for the life of me remember the title or even give a more specific summary.  What I do recall, though, is that this mysterious article came as a revelation.

I knew, through painful experience, that I had to go through many re-writes before my story took shape.  No matter how long I toiled or how carefully I planned, Draft 1 came out awful. Draft 2 was even worse.  Yet around Draft 5, 6, 7, the writing started to come out better.  The problem was, I didn't know why.  I'd tackle everything at once, and sometimes the story sounded nice and sometimes it didn't.

The article made me think about breaking up the elements of writing and focusing on different ones for each drafts.  This kept me from being overwhelmed.  So what if I my sentences were mangled, my description nonexistent, and my point of view kept switching?  I'd figured out the plot, so mission accomplished.

But I knew--again, through painful experience--that the elements had to be handled in a certain order.  Why spend hours trying to tune a phrase just so, when two drafts later you have to throw the scene out.  No, each draft had to build on the next one.  I thought of it like creating a human body.  If you tried to fix skin onto the bones and inject muscles in between, you'd end up with a bumpy looking mess.  Better to make a solid skeleton and then slap on the meat.

As I experimented more and more, I came up with a system for revisions.  I'd start humble, write fast and loose and messy, experiment and leave my options open.  As the story took shape, my writing became slower, more thoughtful, more precise.  By the end, I had a pretty nice, pretty shiny story.

Here's how it works.

Draft 1: Ideas
aka the Soul

Ideas gives birth to the story.  They're what compels the writer to write.  Each story begins with a simple question. "What is this about?"  As that question is explored, the humble idea grows up to become a theme or a motif.  Ultimately, it's what gives the story its meaning.

I call ideas the soul of the story because they are mysterious and hard to explain, but without one the story withers and dies.

For me, the idea draft is simply finding out what the story is about.  I take my time and ask a lot of questions.  How does this happen?  Why? What are the consequences?  I find a novel must have more than one idea.  As the first one starts to dry out, a new idea must be presented.  The old idea and the new one overlap and grow on each other, creating even more question.  I keep asking until I get an idea of an ending.  The idea draft usually looks like something between notes, an outline, or an exploratory draft with lots of gaps and plot holes.

Draft 2: Character, Plot, and Setting
aka the Internal Organs

Character, plot, and setting are fundamentals of story-telling.

Character means, of course, knowing your protagonist inside and out: his past, his morals, his desires, his fears, his strengths his limitations.  But it also means knowing these same things about your supporting characters and understanding their relationship to your protagonist.  

Plot is a progression of events which moves the story to the climax; it should run parallel to your theme and illuminate what your idea is trying to say.  For a plot to move, things must happen now.  Flashback, backstory, and exposition may be vital for clarity, but these are not plot.  At the same time, there must be a purpose to the action or it's just a random bunch of events.

Setting, obviously, means a physical environment: a forest, a castle, a room.  But it also includes the objects in the environment: clothes and furniture and weapons.  If your protagonist finds himself in unspoiled nature, what animals live there and what are their relationship to man?  If he's in a town or a city, what sort of culture does he confront?  What is history of the land?  What's the day, the month, the year?  What's the weather like?  How much time passes for the duration of the scene?

I like to think of character as the heart, plot as the brains, and setting as the lungs.  Each controls its own vital system that keeps the body alive.  Take away one and the story instantly collapses.

The reason I lump these three together is because they're interconnected.  Take a battle, for example.  You have to choreograph the action, one attack leading to another, until someone wins or the fighting ceases. (Plot.)  But in order to understand the action, you need to know where they're fighting and how many people are there and what's the weather conditions. (Setting.)  But you also need to know why the commanders chose to fight here and now and what they expect to happen and how your point of view character fits into the grand scheme of thing.  (Character.)  Any little alteration of one can greatly affect the others.

Not surprisingly, this drafts tend to be muddy, bloody, and messy.  I usually dive in at one section--say, plot--realize I need to do setting, change my mind about the plot, start on character, change the setting, change the plot again, have an idea for something completely different, and start all over.  At the end of it, I've got long thorough drafts so contradictory I can barely understand what I've written.  But that's fine.  I've explored different ways to develop the ideas all the way through from beginning to end.

Draft 3: Logic and Structure
aka the Skeleton

Structure and logic force the various writing elements into one solid story.  Structure means composing scenes, building chapters, putting events in order, deciding where backstory and exposition goes, choosing a point of view, commanding the pace, and ruling over everything with the iron fist of consistency.  Logic means going over the manuscript with a red pen for plot holes, unbelievable characterization, inaccuracies, and any other mistakes.

I call these two elements the skeleton, because they're rigid and they keep plot, character, and setting from spilling out in a disgusting heap.

It's on this draft that I switch off the right side of my brain and let my inner critic come out.  I make note of all the inconsistencies, the confusion, the unnecessary stuff, and I do my best to cut it out and clean it up.  On the flip side, I see what's working and what needs to be expanded or further developed.  This is the draft where I make all the big decisions about what happens in my story and stick to those decisions.  By the end of it, it actually starts to look like a novel.

Draft 4: Imagery and Emotion
aka the Flesh

People read in order to experience something new, be it travel, adventure, or falling in love.  What gives them that experience is imagery and emotion.  Imagery appeals to the five senses: sight, smell, sound, touch and taste.  When people talk about painting a picture, this is what they mean.  But a picture alone can be boring.  Emotion creates a human connection.

Imagery and emotion makes up the good, meaty part of the story--the part people ultimately hold onto.  That's why I liken it to the flesh.  And like the flesh, this kind of description can be thin or voluptuous.

My previous drafts already include imagery and emotion--it's impossible to get this far without them.  But here I crank it up to eleven.  I go over my scenes and write exhaustive description, sometimes ticking off the five senses one by one.  Likewise, I have my point of view character react to everything from the weather to the sight of another character to a bit of exposition.  The more dramatic it is, the more paragraphs I write.

Draft 5: Prose
aka the Skin

Prose is the "good writing" part of the story.  It means choosing the right words, arranging the sentences, listening to the rhythm, building paragraphs, adding tone, and creating pace.  This is when I look at active verbs versus passive verbs and start hitting the thesaurus.

To me, prose is the most cosmetic part of the story, but it's also the part people look at first and judge accordingly.  It's the skin that gives a pretty face to the substance, and the clearer and smoother it is, the better..

I start this draft by reading through the imagery and emotion of the previous draft and hacking out everything but the most evocative words or phrases.  I build new sentences around these words.  This is the most time-consuming draft, as I easily spend an hour or more per page.  Everything is chosen and arranged with meticulous detail.

* * *

By now, the story is basically done.  There's more editing, of course: grammar, spelling, punctuation, and the like.  But this is what I consider hygiene.  It's clean up, not a major re-write.

This is my own method.  It works for me, for the most part, because it lets me switch my brain back and forth between creator and editor, feeler and thinker, experimenter and decision-maker.  To me, it's a logical progression.  But is it the same for you?  Or do you have a different way of tackling revision?

Please let me know.

Dissecting Fantasy: Objects, Part 2

Objects, Magical and Mundane

Part 2

How selective use of objects can enhance a fantasy (or non-fantasy) novel

Last time: We discussed the importance of choosing wisely which objects your characters should have access to and what sort of practical items can help in your character's survival

Sources: The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins,  the Harry Potter novels by J.K. Rowling, The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien, "The Snow Queen" by Hans Christian Andersen

Objects in Identity

"For the opening ceremony, you're supposed to wear something that suggests your district's principal industry.  [...]  This means that coming from District 12, Peeta and I will be in some kind of coal miner's get-up.  Since the baggy miner's jumpsuits are not particularly becoming, our tributes usually end up in skimpy outfits with hats and headlamps.   One year, our tributes were stark naked and covered in black powder to represent coal dust.  It's always dreadful [...]."

--Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games

I'm going to say three objects and you're going to tell me when and where the story takes place. Ready?

Spurs.  Revolver.  Star-shaped badge.

Obvious, right?  American West, circa 1880s.  The setting of many cowboy movies.
How about three more:

Katana sword.  Green powdered tea.  Silk kimono.

Feudal Japan.  Not hard at all.

But it shows the power of objects and cultural identity.  Say toga and we're in ancient Rome.  Nesting dolls sticks us in Russia.  Heck, even magical objects have cultural implications.  Flying carpets and magic lamps evoke pre-Islamic Saudi Arabia, while 7-league boots and deadly spindles plants us squarely in pre-industrial Europe.

These associations can help or hurt your story.  If you want to set your fantasy story in a specific time and the mention of even a few of these items will immediately paint a picture in the reader's minds.  Food, art, and technology, in particular, show the culture of a society.  Dried deer jerky versus cream puffs, marble statues versus ink scrolls, chariots versus steam trains--each thing very succinctly paints a picture of a time, a place, and a people.

On the other hand, if you want to create your own unique world without any cultural associations, objects can be a problem. How do you show readers that the world is different? There are three main strategies:

1. Mix-and-Match Objects

Let's see the reader try to place a character wearing a kimono, toting a six shooter, and standing near a marble statue.  That will teach the reader to form associations.  Unfortunately, it may also confuse her.

2. Create-Your-Own Objects

The splutok is a clay-based water holder with a rope handle and patterns of pre-Groteal artwork covering the surface.  By creating your own objects, you show the reader that the culture is not of this world.  Unfortunately, not only do you have to spend the time to invent this new object, you now have to slow down the story to explain it to the readers.

3. Intentionally Vague Objects

The girl sits on the comfortable sitting object, holds the writing object, and writes on a flat writing surface.  The less specific the object, the greater the chance of it being universal and thus not tied to a particular time and place.  But if your objects are too vague, the reader loses a lot of the imagery and thus the joy in the story.

Now, I realize my examples are all exaggerated and sort of ridiculous.  Hey, I like to have fun, too.  But I don't want you to think that these strategies don't work.  They do.  They just need to be employed with a deft and subtle hand.

For example, when you mix and match cultures, take into account the setting.  Fans make more sense in hot, muggy environments than in arctic ones.  A few strange, magical, and important objects show you're in a different world.  If the splutok is used in an important religious ceremony that will play a crucial role in the plot, the reader may be more inclined to read a long description.  Otherwise, opt for general objects: dress, chair, pen, soup, wine.  Oh sure, you can embellish them with adjectives.  The Artrukian silk dress, the famed plum wine of Chial.  As long as the readers can visualize the noun, you should be okay.

* * *

Thus far, I've been discussing objects in relation to cultural identity.  But it can also apply to the individual.

Now, I'm going to play the same "three object" game, but with people instead.  I want you to guess the name of the person based on some objects.  Tell me who has:

Glasses.  A magic wand.  An invisibility cloak.

Too easy?  How about:

A magic ring.  A glowing sword.  A (distinct lack of) pocket handkerchief.

Okay, so Harry Potter and Bilbo Baggins are famous, iconic fantasy figures.  Even so, you were able to guess them based on three objects, weren't you?

Why do we want to chose our own clothes?  Why do we want to decorate our house in the way we want?  Why do we take a glance at a person's clothes or nose through their house and draw certain conclusions about them?  Objects have power to reflect a person's identity.  Even objects chosen on a whim.  Wear dragonfly earring everyday and people will associate those earrings with you.

What does this mean for you?

It means that a few well-chosen objects can act as a shortcut to the character's identity.  A main character, of course, will have loads and loads of objects.  But a minor character with a single memorable object will also stick in people's minds.

* * *

Writing Prompt

Your hero roots through the corpses of his enemy for supplies.  All the enemy look the same--similar faces, similar clothing, similar supplies.  Then, suddenly, your hero opens an enemy's pack and finds a single object that makes him stop dead in his tracks.  When he sees this object, he realizes that his enemy was a real person, not some faceless monster.

What is this object?  Why does it affect your hero so much?

* * *

Magical Objects

"One day [a hobgoblin] was in a high state of delight because he had invented a mirror with this peculiarity, that every good and pretty thing reflected in it shrank away to almost nothing.  On the other hand, every bad and good-for-nothing thing stood out and looked its worst. [...] All the scholars in the demon's school [...] reported that [...] now for the first time it had become possible to see what the world and mankind were really like."

--Hans Christian Andersen, "The Snow Queen"

Admit it.  This was the part you were really interested in.

I hardly need to explain why magic is awesome.  It just is.  On the one hand, it can bring your every desire to life.  Things you can regain what you lost, you can do they impossible, you can master skills in a flash.

Things We Desire

• Power over Nature (water, fire, wind, lightning, earth)
• Power over People (having them like you, protection against harm or disloyalty)
• Power over the Supernatural (bringing the dead to life, speaking to ghosts, visions of the future)
• Mastery of a Particular Skill
• Wealth
• Transformation (controlled shapeshifting)
• Communication (telepathy, speaking to animals, speaking different languages)
• Youth and Rejuvenation
• Flying
• Invisibility
• Healing
• Knowledge
• Love

But on the other hand, magic can represent everything we fear, especially the things which are not necessarily solid or material.  It can manifest horrible losses, it can mar the soul, it can turn us into what we most hate.

Things We Fear

• Power (used against us)
• Loss of Loved Ones
• Loss of Identity
• Loss of Soul
• Loss of Freedom
• Loss of Respect
• Pain
• Poverty
• Sickness
• Deception
• Transformation (uncontrolled, monstrous)
• Ugliness/ Disability/ Age 
• Death

All this awesome power comes packed inside an ordinary, everyday item, usually something small enough to pick up.  Though the object can be anything, it usually comes fraught with some sort of symbolic power.  Things that bind, things that reflect, things that speak in some unconscious way to our soul.

Ordinary Objects

• Mirror
• Paper (books, scrolls)
• Clothes and Shoes (cape, belt, slippers, boots)
• Jewelry (rings, amulets, necklace, gemstones)
• Plants (dried herbs, nuts, mushrooms)
• Masks
• Cups, Bowls, Spoons
• Dolls 
• Game Pieces (dice, chess pieces, cards)
• Musical Instruments (pipe, drum, bell)
• Keys
• Weapons and Armor (sword, bow, shield, helmet)
• Candles and Lamps

Put the dread and desire of magic into one of these unassuming objects and you have the beginning of a story.

Just the beginning, of course.  Though the object may be fascinating in and of itself, what people really want to see is how the character uses the object, or, if he doesn't use it at all, why not?  The relationship between the character and the magical object may prove significant.  In order to develop it, ask yourself some of these question.

1. To begin with, how did your character get a hold of it?

Created it
Gift
Found it
Bought it
Earned it
Stole it
Traded for it
Other

2. Does he actually know what the object does?

Yes--completely
No, not at all
Thinks he does but is wrong
Knows some aspects of the magic but not the whole thing

3. Does it take any skill to master it?

Yes
No

4. Can only certain kinds of people use it?  (Pure-hearted, wizards, members of a certain bloodline, etc.)

Yes
No

5. Does the object have a limitation?

Yes--can only be used during certain times (full moon, before midnight)
Yes--limited quantity (only three wishes)
Yes--needs magic words/ rituals (must blow three kisses)
Yes--delicate/ can be broken
Yes--dependent on the physical/ mental/ spiritual state of person using it
Yes--other
No

6. Is there a cost to using it?

Yes--stated up front
Yes--hidden
No

7.  Is the object good or evil?

Good
Evil
Neutral

As you answer these questions, you should start to think of what kind of dilemma this object can cause the character.  Rarely is it satisfying for a magical item to swoop in and solve the character's problems.  There should be a conflict.

* * *

Now up until now, I've been treating the magical object as though it has a deep connection to the heart of the story.  But sometimes magical objects just pop up for convenient's sake.  Magic is like technology.  Sometimes we get airplanes and atomic bombs.  Other times we get velcro and flashlights.

Remember back in the survival section how I said you could use magic to cheat.  Well, here we are.

If you don't want your character lugging around 50 pounds of equipment and if you've created a world where magic is fairly common, you can use select magical objects to make the trip easier for him.  For example, a cloak that keeps your character dry no matter the weather.  A quiver that never runs out of arrows.  A piece of paper that automatically draws perfect maps.

The possibilities are endless.

Favorite Cheat Magical Objects

• Tables that always fill with food
• Purses that never run out of money
• Bread that fills your stomach with a single bite
• Boots that take you seven leagues with a single step
• Walnut shells that store ball gowns

The danger of cheat objects is that it creates what I like to call the RV paradox.  Sure, you can bring an RV into the woods, complete with T.V. and all the comforts of home, but at what point do we start to miss the point of going camping?  Magic can be a nice short cut every once in a while, but too many shortcuts and you suck out all the risk, struggle, and danger.

So when do you use magical cheats?  When the characters actually need them.

Look at The Hobbit versus The Lord of the Rings.  Bilbo didn't get magical lembas bread that filled his stomach with a single bite, because going on an adventure--being uncomfortable and hungry--was the whole point of the book.  Frodo, on the other hand, had to carry a magical ring that was corrupting his soul through an enemy war zone while being hunted by flying ghosts with poisonous swords.  Not starving to death along the way was the least they could do for him.

* * *

Writing Prompt

It's a dragon scale, or so your friend claims.  Blue and bold, with serrated edges, and large as your head.  After the knight killed the beast, your friend blunted three knives to pry it off.  On the dragon, the scale had been green, but once plucked, it turned a mystical blue.

"Proof," your friend says, "Of magic."

"All right," you reply, handing the scale back.  "It's magic. But what does it do?"

What does it do?  Finish the story.

Dissecting Fantasy: Objects, Part 1

Objects, Magical and Mundane

Part I

How selective use of objects can enhance a fantasy (or non-fantasy) novel

Sources: The Night Circus (fantasy) by Erin Morgenstern, Mutant Message From Down Under (nonfiction/ travel) by Marlo Morgan, Into the Wild (nonfiction/ travel) by Jon Krakauer, Warriors: A Visual History of the Fighting Man (reference) by R. G. Grant, Mistborn (fantasy) by Brandon Sanderson

A Treasure Box

"The finished clock is resplendent.  At first glance it is simply a clock, a rather large black clock with a white face and silver pendulum. [...] But that is before it is wound.  [...] First the color changes in the face, shifts from white to grey, and then there are clouds that float across it, disappearing when they reach the opposite side. [...] At the center, where a cuckoo bird would live in a more traditional timepiece, is the juggler."

--Erin Morgenstern, The Night Circus

When I was a kid, I had an old photo box stuffed with my own personal treasures. I thought that if the house ever caught on fire, I could take the box and run out the front door; therefore, I chose with great care the objects that would represent my past.

Stumbling upon my treasure box in the shed some years later, I was sort of amazed by the paraphernalia that made the final cut.  Some things made sense, like my oldest hand-written diary  entries and the gold musical locket my grandma gave me.  Then there was a mini photo album of my best friend and I picking kumquats, a half of a heart made of masking tape, and a random sticker of teddy bear ballerinas.  As I picked each one up, I felt a sentimental squeeze in my heart.  Whether or not I understood the meaning, these were my treasures.

As humans, we love objects and invest a good deal of feeling into them.  So when you write a book, objects take on a significant role.  They can personify a character or act as a symbol of a relationship.  They can move the plot along.  They can represent an entire culture.

But never forget that sometimes we like objects just because we like them.  An interesting object lovingly described can hold your reader's attention as well as any fight scene or moment of poignant drama.  And in fantasy, where nothing is limited by real rules, enchanted objects trigger the imagination and send your reader floating into new realms.

Choose It, Use It, Lose It

"A young woman came to me holding a plate full of rocks.  [...] Ooota at me very seriously and said, 'Choose a rock.  Choose it wisely.  It has the power to save your life.' "

--Marlo Morgan, Mutant Message from Down Under

Writing fantasy can be like going on a shopping spree.  You can pick out anything you like and fill whole rooms with treasures.  Dragon hoards.  Castles.  Bazaars.  Museums.  The power of these places come from the sheer delight in so many objects to look at, smell, and hold.  By all means, go a little crazy.

Just remember that very few of these objects will actually amount to very much value.  As a writer, you must choose only a few prominent items for each of your characters to use within the confines of the story.

Notice I say you get to choose--not necessarily the character.  After all, the character might be exiled from the village with little more than the clothes on his back and a few oddities in his pockets.  It's up to the writer to decide what clothes and what oddities he has.  Likewise, the character might stumble upon useful items in the woods.  For him, it's a matter of luck.  For the writer, it's a carefully planted plot twist.

What the character does get a say in is how he utilizes the objects he has.  As a rule of thumb, the more creative, inventive, and resourceful he can be, the more interesting the character will be.  That's why imposing limits can be a good thing. If he, for example, has only a string and a bent nail in his pocket, can he make a fishing line?  Can he use his cap to gather berries?  Can he collect rainwater using his wooden shoe?

It's always fun to see things used in different ways than intended.  The same goes with magic items.  Can they be used in two, three, four, five different ways.  Can they be combined with other objects to make something entirely new?

Maybe your character will start off unfamiliar with the objects on which he pins his survival, but ultimately, he should gain mastery of his tools.  Once he does, you can make things interesting by taking his objects away.

Sometimes a characters will lose the items they're familiar with.  Sometimes magical wands break.  Sometimes quantities of healing potion are depleted.  Sometimes bad guys steal the mystical sword of awesome.  Sometimes the all-knowing compass leads you in the wrong direction. Sometimes you accidentally leave your book of spells on the train.

The point is, you can never fully 100% rely on objects, either to be with you when you need them or to do the job like they're supposed.  And that's a good thing.  Because characters are more than the things they have.  Start taking away their objects and their true nature comes out.  Can they adapt in time?  Can they fix what's broken?  Will they keep their cool or panic?

Now, I don't mean you have to send your hero naked and unarmed against the monster of doom. You need tools to get the job done.  That's fine.  But taking them away is a great way to create conflict and keep the readers in suspense.

* * *

Writing Prompt

In junior high, while studying voyages to the new world, my history teacher asked us to write an essay on the following question: If you were going on an overseas voyage and could only pick three objects, what would they be? (Mine would be a fat journal and pen--that counts as one--letters from my family and friends and a book--probably Ender's Games, if I could just choose one.)

Apply this to your characters.  If they had to leave home forever and could only pick three things to take with them, what would they be?  Would they choose them for practical purpose?  For comfort?  For sentimental reasons?  For psychological necessity?  Now, will you, as the author, actually let them have these things?  If not, how does it affect your character?  Do they try to replace these things with other comforts?

* * *

Objects in Survival

"Alex admitted that the only food in his pack was a ten-pound bag of rice.  His gear seemed exceedingly minimal for the harsh conditions of the interior [...].  Alex's cheap leather hiking boots were neither waterproof nor well insulated.  His rifle was only a .22 caliber, a bore too small to rely on if he expected to kill large animals[...]. He had no ax, no bug dope, no snowshoes, no compass.  The only navigational aid in his possession was a tattered state road map he'd scrounged at a gas station."

--Jon Krakauer, Into the Wild

By and large, most of the objects you come across in everyday life are exceedingly practical.  We put very little value in the stapler or the potato peeler until we lose it or it breaks.  Then we huff out a sigh and buy a new one.  It's the same thing for writing a book.  We don't realize what the character need until suddenly they need it.  Then, with a growl of frustration, we re-write the last few pages to mention the item we forgot.

All that's fine if your character is sitting in the midst of civilization and can easily get a hold of anything he needs.  But fantasy stories are not exactly known for their sedentary natures.  Characters go on adventures, tramp through the wilds, and find themselves in new and strange objects.  They might not be able to page through their junk drawer or go to the 99 cents store.  They'd better have the items they need at the start.

In which case the story becomes a little like planning a camping trip or traveling overseas.  You'd better make sure the character has everything he needs to start with.

But what kinds of things do they need to survive?  Fantasy stories may take place in modern times, but they might also take place in older times, in which case you aren't going to have access to modern technologies like matches and plastic.  Even if you do have those technologies, how many of us actually know what objects we need to survive and how to use them?

Here's my own casual list of wilderness survival items:

• Food, Means of Getting Food, Means of Preparing Food (jerky, biscuits, salt, herbs, pots and pans, knife, utensils, fishing gear, basket/ bag for gathering wild fruits and vegetables)
• Canteens and Water Purification Method (pot for boiling water, tea leaves, coffee, alcohol)
• Clothing (boots, cloak, hat, gloves, armor)
• Hygiene (soap, shaving kit, brush, toothbrush)
• Medicine (bandages, disinfectants, insect repellant)
• Map/ Compass
• Light/ Heat (candles, lantern, flint/ matches, oil)
• Shelter (tent, blanket)
• Weapon, for food and protection, and Means of Maintaining Weapon
• Personal/ Psychological Objects (journal, religious text, letters from home, games, musical instruments )
• Other (sewing kit, rope, axe,)
• Means of Holding Objects (knapsack, backpack, saddle bag, belt)

But these are general things.  How do you narrow figure out specific items?

I, personally, like to steal from history.  (Note my interest in A Soldier's Pack in my Civil War blogs.)  I grew up on the Oregon Trail and Laura Ingalls Wilder.  Half the time, I just think back to all that pioneering goodness and steal objects willy-nilly.

Lately, I've been interested in looking at soldiers, who have to pack light.  Some sections of R. G. Grant's Warriors: A Visual History of the Fighting Man (a DK book) show what soldiers throughout history traveled with while on campaign.  For example, an American rifleman fighting in the Revolutionary War would carry with him:

• a pewter mug
• a wooden food bowl
• a salt horn
• a bone-handled fork
• a wooden spoon
• a tin cup, which could be used for cooking as well as drinking
• a swiggler (a tiny wooden barrel for spirits)
• a white canvas bag to carry it all in

Or look at survival fiction or non-fiction to see how people manage under trying circumstances.  There's a ton of survival shows on cable.  I personally like to watch Survivorman while doing the dishes.

The amount of research you decide to do, is up to you.  But having at least some idea of how people survive does add elements of realism to a story.

The more objects your character has to haul around, the heavier his pack becomes, the less able he is to fight and the slower the trip.  So you need to figure out ways of carrying the supplies (via horses or some other beast of burden) or keeping the amount of items on his person to a minimum. Towns, inns, farms, and other pockets of civilization are useful, because here your character can re-supply.  If he's less scrupulous, he can steal.

If your character has intimate knowledge of the terrain and it happens to be summer/ early fall, he can simply live off the land.  Or a large party of travelers can share the supplies--one person brings the cooking pot and knives, another one holds the medicine, a third carries the map and books, etc.

Of course, you can always use magic to cheat, but I'll get to that later.

Thus far, I've assumed your character is going off into the woods to survive.  But maybe he's not--maybe the whole story takes place in the city.

Here you have access to whatever you want, depending on the resources of the civilization or the wealth of the character.  Even a poor person, begging or going through the garbage, can usually find food, clothes, and various broken objects.

Survival objects will most likely be tools of the trade.  A peasant will have his plough and sickle.  A tailor will have needles and threads.  A warrior will have his weapons and armor.  And so on and so forth.

Even those ply magic may have perfectly ordinary objects they use in their trade.  In Brandon Sanderson's Mistborn, for example, certain individuals are able to "push" metal objects of lesser weight than themselves; they carry around ordinary coins and send them spraying like bullets.  More generically, fortune-tellers have their tarot decks and crystal balls, while potion-makers have their cauldrons and bottles.  Mixing magic and non-magic objects can be perfectly charming and fun.

* * *

Writing Prompt

Ever heard of  "For Want of a Nail..." ? It goes like this:

For want of a nail the shoe was lost.
For want of a shoe the horse was lost.
For want of a horse the rider was lost.
For want of a rider the message was lost.
For want of a message the battle was lost.
For want of a battle the kingdom was lost.
And all for the want of a horseshoe nail.

You can try your own "For Want of a Nail" and imagine how your character loses a single item and how it leads to a disaster.  Or, inversely, you can have your character gain one small item and imagine how that leads to something wonderful.

* * *

And that's all the time we have for this week.  Stay tuned next week for the continuation: "Objects in Identity" and "Magical Objects."

3 Books that Changed How I Write

While subbing for a language arts class, a student came up to me and asked if I would recommend some writing books for her.   A pretty basic question—yet I hesitated.  In the last 15 years, I've read at least two dozen books on writing, along with countless magazine and blog articles.  After a while, they all start to blur together.  How can I choose the best when I barely remember the titles?

But there were some books I remembered, books I kept coming back to, books whose advice I applied and found my story all the stronger for it.  I cannot guarantee they will transform your writing.  All I know is that they transformed mine.

1. Elements of Fiction Writing: Character and Viewpoint by Orson Scott Card

At some point in his life, my dad wanted to write stories with his sister; subsequently, he gathered a huge collection of writing books.  The dream never panned out for him, but the books lay on the shelf, ripe for the picking.  The most prominent of the collection was the Elements of Fiction Writing series, several white-spined books that each broke down the fundamentals of plot, setting, scene, etc.  In high school, when I became serious about my writing, I devoured the books.

When I came to the Character and Viewpoint book, I was startled to find it was written by Orson Scott Card.  I'd only just finished reading Ender's Game, one of my all-time favorite books.  Needless to say, I read with rapt attention. 

At the time I was just starting what was to become an epic pokemon fanfiction, and I realized to my dismay that some of my secondary characters (Karen and Kris) bore all the hallmarks of a flat character.  I remedied this immediately.  The character became infinitely more complex and interesting.  They ended up being my favorites.

I recommend this book to a beginner writer who wants to add depth to characters and understand the subtle, but powerful way point of view influences the story.  You do not have to take all his suggestions.  (At one point he says an audience could not relate to an intellectual hero—from a man who’s best-selling book revolves around geniuses!)  But it gives good insight into what makes a character tick.

2. Self-Editing for Fiction Writers: How to Edit Yourself Into Print by Renni Browne and Dave King

I was in Japan mid-deep into The Changelings, the epic fantasy I'd started four years ago in college, but I was getting frustrated because my writing just wasn't good.  That is, the story was okay, but the actual words did not conveying my ideas in the smooth and elegant way I'd seen in published novels.  Sometimes, if I wrote and re-wrote the chapter a dozen times, I’d get close.  But I had no idea what I was doing. 

This book broke down the craft of turning story into prose bit by bit, using lots of examples and a few obscure comics.  I started practicing it on my Ramna 1/2 fanfiction (yes, I wrote a lot of fanfiction) and was amazed how much emotion I was able to evoke.  Not only that, I understood why it worked and how, through a lot of sweat, to replicate the result.

I recommend this book to intermediate to advanced writer, who knows the basics of storytelling but wants their prose to read in a clear, professional manner.

3. Book in a Month: The Fool-Proof System for Writing a Novel in 30 Days by Victoria Lynn Schmidt

Boy, I wish I had this book in college, back when I was flailing about to turn the sprawling plot of my novel into something comprehensible.  If I'd known how to outline then, I'd have saved myself a lot of trouble.

When I started The Changelings back in January ’04, I thought I’d write it like I had my pokemon fanfiction—one chapter at a time, no planning ahead.  But this story was infinitely more complex, and I spent three years of college spinning my wheels.  4 years after that, I finally had a complete draft.  Now, as I revised The Changelings, I knew I had to start thinking about the sequel, The Originals.  But I did not want to spend another 7 years in developmental hell.  I wanted a short cut.

Scanning the shelves at Barnes and Noble, the bright orange cover caught my eye.  A sticker announced 30% off sticker and I thought, Why Not?  Roughly 5 weeks later, I banged out 100 pages of The Originals.  While not even close to being a whole novel, I did in fact locate the core plot, while teaching myself a valuable lesson about how to plot out the novel in advance and then write it down and see where it would lead.   

I recommend this book to beginner writers who are ready to jump into their novel or to intermediate writers who are stuck in the middle of the plot and want practical advice for getting back on track.  Though the cover says, “Book in a Month,” I personally recommend giving yourself two: the first month to read the book and do the exercises, the second month to actually write it all down.