Filling in the Sticky Notes: Act III: The Final Battle

Previous posts in this series:


Act I HERE
Act II part 1 HERE
Act II part 2 HERE
Act II part 3 HERE
Act II part 4 HERE

ACT III: THE FINAL BATTLE


In Act III, we're getting off the boat for the stone mattress viewing tour, and this is where Verna will kill Bob . . . or our world has gotten more and more restricted, till the whole family is in the kitchen, food and cigarettes running out, and the radio stations have stopped broadcasting . . . or we're confronting the witch in her own castle . . .

This is where the Final Battle takes place.

In some cases this is really close to the end, with not much occurring afterwards. For example, in "The Birds" you could argue that the very Final Battle actually occurs after the end of the story. We pretty much know what's going to happen, but we don't see it-- we're just left knowing that it will happen, which in a way is worse.

In The Wizard of Oz, though, the final battle with the antagonist-- the Witch-- happens well before the end, with lots of twists and turns following, as we get the broom back to the Wizard, then learn the Wizard isn't who he says, then he teaches everyone a valuable lesson, Dorothy thinks she won't get back to Kansas (Wizard has no magic), then she thinks she will (but he has a balloon!), then she thinks she won't (the balloon leaves without her), etc.

In Stone Mattress it's pretty much in the classic place going by Freytag's triangle, at least the way I was taught it in graduate school, with the climax coming quite close to the end, and then a short denoumont tail coming after that.

(source)



Verna kills Bob, then there are just a few paragraphs about how she tidies things up and arranges to hide his absence. I would argue that this story ends low on the "falling action" slope, leaving us to wonder about the resolution: Will Verna will get caught or not?

This is a classic and (to me) satisfying type of short story ending, which leaves us, not completely in the wilderness, but with one or two definite, but divergent, paths that the character might take after the last line of the story. In this case, Verna eiter will or won't get caught.

However, not all endings work that way. "The Birds" leaves us with basically one possibility for what will happen after the end, and that's effective too; and The Wizard of Oz tells us very little about what will happen next; it just leaves us with a general sense that things are tied up and okay now, in a way they weren't at the beginning of the story: Dorothy's restlessness is solved. We have gone all the way into the "resolution" stretch of Freytag's triangle. So there are many ways to handle Act III.

The classic movie ending is essentially a happy ending, with the character's basic problem solved. Often, they may not have gotten what they Wanted, but they have gotten what they Needed, but didn't realized they Needed until the story's adventures taught them. This is what happens in the Wizard of Oz. Dorothy wants to leave home in the beginning; soon this changes to wanting to be back home, but it's only after she's proven herself through many adventures that she has the power to really go back and inhabit that world, and feel satisfied to be there. She Wanted to escape to a world over the rainbow. She Needed to see that home was where she belonged all along. (And only by going over the rainbow could she truly learn that.)

This basically happy ending does not exist at all in the short fictions by Atwood and DuMaurier. What does happen is that things have come to a head, and a change, an irrevocable change, has occurred in the main character's life. They have gone on a very definite journey and have wound up in a different place than they were in the beginning. Although they may or may not have solved their initial problems, movie-style, we know this narrative is truly a story because a significant change has occurred.

Looking back at Hemingway's "Indian Camp," we also see an un-movie-like ending, but different from the other short-story endings. After the climactic passages, in which we as the readers really feel the the unnamed woman's pain and its impact on others in several different ways, we end with falling action (finishing up, leaving), then the last line, which feels so powerful every time I read it. We learn that these experiences, which have changed us just through reading about them in a very short story, have not really touched Nick after all. He still sees the woman essentially as an other: female, "Indian," living on an island apart from where Nick lives. He doesn't really get it. Yet. I think it's that sense of "yet" that makes the ending so effective, that seems to leave me at the edge of a cliff after that last period.

TO DO:

Bring your character to the Final Showdown. Whatever you have promised or planted earlier in the story should bear fruit now. If you have shown us a gun in Act I, this is where it has to go off.  By the time you write the climax, you'll probably have a pretty good sense of what needs to happen between there and the end--what shape you want the end to take.

Next comes the really fun part: revising with a knowledge of the shape of your plot. If you find you want a gun to go off in the Act III climax, don't worry about whether you've shown it to us yet. Have it go off. Then go back and revise: plant it in the beginning, and make sure we glimpse it a couple more times before the payoff in Act III.

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Filling in the Sticky Notes: Act II, Part 3: The Midpoint

Previous posts in this series:

Act I 
Act II part 1 
Act II part 2 


ACT II, PART 3: THE MIDPOINT


Act II is long, and the Midpoint is a kind of climactic point right in the middle of it. Usually, stakes are raised in re: the overall goal.

In Stone Mattress, I think it could be the line " It was Bob who’d turned her into—why not say the word?—a murderer." We've been with Verna, as worse and worse memories about Bob surface-- as she processes the information because he has returned to her life. Up until this point in the story, although she admits to herself she has eased the way to death for a few husbands, she hasn't used that word in reference to herself. Once all the awful memories have surfaced and been given to the reader, we go from knowing that Verna wants to turn the tables on Bob somehow, to learning, at the same time as she herself has the realization, that she wants to kill him. This is a definite raising of the stakes.

In "The Birds" this might come on page 9 where we learn the birds have been acting strangely all over the country. Basically, the tension in this story escalates so continuously that I'm not sure there's one clear Midpoint raising-the-stakes moment. Even once the birds' strange behavior is acknowledged as a national problem, many people aren't taking it seriously. And yet this is the point when people stop trying to claim that it's simply the weather, or Nat's imagination: this is when even the news announcers admit that there is a real, widespread issue and nobody--from regular folks in their homes like Nat, to the military and the government-- knows the cause or the solution.

In The Wizard of Oz, this could be when Dorothy finally reaches her original goal-- the Wizard-- but it turns out he won't help her unless she accomplishes something else: getting the Witch's broom. She's gone through a lot to get to the Wizard but the stakes are raised here because she'll have to go into really hostile territory to get hold of the broom.

Let's look for a moment at how this escalation in stakes relates to your character's Want from early in the story.

In Stone Mattress, Verna enters the story with this Want: to be surrounded by enough padding that no one can ever hurt her. However, that protection is breached when she runs into Bob and the original hurt returns. Her new Want, then, becomes to get the better of Bob in some way. The Midpoint is when that way turns out to be murder. It's still basically the same Want from the beginning of the story: to triumph over that event that changed her life at 14.

In The Birds, we learn in the second paragraph that Nat has "a wartime disability" and we learn that he likes solitary, predictable part-time work on the farm. From this I get the feeling that Nat's Want is to have a steady, quiet life after the chaos of his wartime experiences. As in Stone Mattress, Act II is about how his quiet life is threatened. He continues to want basically the same thing-- safety and security-- but that gets harder and harder as the threats from outside increase. From the moment the birds attack his kids, protecting his family is his one big Want, and that doesn't really change throughout the story.

In The Wizard of Oz, interestingly, Act I is about Dorothy wanting to get away from Kansas, into some better, more colorful place, but as soon as she's there, all she wants is to go home. That's a big change, but after that, her Want stays the same through the end of the story. In one way, you could say her longing throughout is for "home," for the place where things are right, are the way they should be. The process she goes through in the story is figuring out what that really means to her. She actually realizes that the farm with Aunt Em-- who is worried about her and loves her-- is where she wants to be, before she gets to Oz, as soon as she sees Em in the crystal ball during the tornado's approach.



TO DO: 


Think about what your character's Want is early in the story. Is it the same now, as you get to the middle of Act II? Is it at least related?

What might the Act II Midpoint be in your story? Jot it down on a sticky note and put it at the bottom of the first Act II column, or the top of the second column.

Filling in the Sticky Notes: Act II, Part 4: Somehow things get even more tense

Previous posts in this series:

Act I HERE
Act II part 1 HERE
Act II part 2 HERE
Act II part 3 HERE



ACT II, PART 4


Just when things have gotten really super tense . . . they get even more tense. Not only do you have to go to the witch's castle and get her broom-- before you even get there she captures you with her flying monkeys, and imprisons you! Not only has Verna decided she'll kill Bob, now she has to figure out all the particulars, from how much time she might have before he recognizes her, to what method she'll use, and how she'll escape being caught. Not only is the whole country afflicted by strange bird behavior, people are dying from it. More and more people.

Sometimes, there are ups and downs, temporary triumphs but then greater losses. You're drunk, in your nightgown, in public, on stage . . . but then, you're giving a good comedy act. But then you flash your boob and you're in jail. All Is Lost.

You finally, miraculously get the witch's broom . . . but then the wizard turns out to be a fake who can't help you. But then he can help you because has a balloon to get you back to Kansas! But then the balloon takes off without you. All Is Lost.

TO DO:

What further obstacles/ challenges does your character face in Act II, as the tension ramps even higher after the stakes-raising Midpoint? Is there a point at which it seems there is really no way out, that all is lost? Add four or more scenes showing what happens after the Midpoint, including an All is Lost moment if you want to.

Filling in the Sticky Notes: Act II: Throw Rocks at Him

"Get your character up a tree, throw rocks at him, get him down."

--quote on three-act structure that has been attributed to many people

This is the third followup post to my Mapping the Plot course.

Post 1 HERE
Post 2 HERE

--

Your character has entered the New World of Act II and looked around. You've filled in maybe half of one of the two "Act II" columns on your posterboard. Now she's going to be encountering some obstacles. Rocks will be thrown.

Continuing with some of the texts we've been looking at:

In Hemingway's "Indian Camp," this is where Nick encounters the woman in labor and hears her screams. And things get worse from there. (Note that Nick is pretty passive as a main character; mostly an observer. In general, it's good to have your character take action to propel the story forward. But like every rule, that one can be broken.)

In the Mrs Maisel pilot, it's where Midge learns Joel has stolen his act from Bob Newhart. And things get worse from there: he bombs, he tells her he's having an affair, he leaves her, she gets drunk . . .

In DuMaurier's "The Birds," it's where Nat gets his first wound: bleeding knuckles from the bird at the window. Things quickly get worse from there.

In Atwood's "Stone Mattress," many complicated things happen in this section. One is that we see the backstory of Verna at 14 with Bob . . . and things definitely go from bad to worse within this story. One the one hand, this is exposition-- it's not happening in the present and it provides a foundation for what will happen in the present. On the other hand, the story of Verna at 14 and Bob is unfolded for us as story, not as an information dump, but as a narrative of its own. As the memories that surface go from the basic facts, to the more and more painful details, we trace the evolution of Verna's emotional state in the present: the state that is building and pushing towards the climax of the story. The way in which the backstory is told mirrors the way in which Verna is recalling the various details in present time, so in essence this describes her present experience.

In The Wizard of Oz, this is after Dorothy sets off down the Yellow Brick Road. Even though she has some positive experience, picking up friends on the way, tension does build as she encounters the dangers of this new world-- the angry trees and, especially, the witch who's out to get her.

A common theme for this "throw rocks" section, is that each rock hits a little harder than the last . . . until the really big hit in the middle of Act II that is the Act II climax. (Next post.)

In this section you'll want to use Coats' Pixar Rule #6:

"What is your character good at, comfortable with? Throw the polar opposite at them. Challenge them. How do they deal?"

If your character has retreated from the chaos of war into a private life-- throw war-like chaos at him. If your character has protected herself from the trauma and vulnerability caused by Bob-- throw Bob at her. If your character has never known anything but Kansas, throw Oz at her. If your character is used to a planned-out perfect life, have that life fall apart.

TO DO:

Fill in the remainder of your first Act II column with "rocks" that get thrown at your character. Sketch three or four scenes that show some sort of trajectory: e.g. difficulties increasing, tensions building. If you have an antagonist (witch, birds, Bob) then tensions are likely building, here, between your protagonist and antagonist.

Filling in the Sticky Notes: Act II -- The New Landscape

This is #2 in a series of posts following up my Mapping the Plot class.

Post #1 is HERE

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So-- we were discussing Emma Coats' Pixar Rule #4:

"#4: Once upon a time there was ___. Every day, ___. One day ___. Because of that, ___. Because of that, ___. Until finally ___."

At the end of Act I, and moving into Act II, is where the "One day ______" event occurs. This was the last sticky note you filled in yesterday.

Act II contains a lot of "Because of that, _______." One event following another.

Early in Act II you want to establish the New World, as your character explores it. How is it different from the Known World of Act I? How does your character respond? Think about some scenes that can show this.

This overlaps with Blake Snyder's idea of the "fun and games" section of the story. According to Snyder's framework, this section provides the images on your movie poster, images that show this New World your character finds and explores in your narrative. (Note that there are many exceptions to Snyder's rules-- and anybody's rules!)

In The Wizard of Oz, Dorothy and Toto look around Oz and take in all the strange sights that tell them they're not in Kansas anymore. This section is all about realizing this is no longer Kansas. Lots of characters introduce themselves and tell Dorothy about the new world. (That she's killed the witch, that she can get back home by finding the Wizard, that the Wizard can be found at the end of the Yellow Brick Road, etc.)

In the movie Elf (which really did not hold up well when I watched it this year, imo!) this is where the main character runs around New York doing stupid things and marveling at things that a normal resident of NYC wouldn't. Acting amazed by shoe-shine men, etc.

In Hemingway's "Indian Camp" this might be the section where Nick follows his dad to the house of the woman in labor, and enters the house, taking everything in.

In DuMaurier's "The Birds," I would put this in the three paragraphs following the line "The birds had been more restless than ever." These are three paragraphs where we survey, through Nat's eyes, the new, strange behavior of the birds this season.

In Atwood's "Stone Mattress," some of this surveying-the-New-World occurs in the first passage of backstory that tells us about Verna's history with Bob. The New World is going to be one in which she is, again-- for the first time since age 14-- dealing with Bob. The New World is where Verna, who had her life and routine down pat, is suddenly gut-punched with these memories; emotionally vulnerable again as she was then.

In Mrs. Maisel, this is where we get an overview of Midge's Life With Joel as his helper and perfect wife. (Although timewise she has already been married to Joel for four years, the narrative skips those years, so for us the audience, it's our first look at this new World of Marriage.)

TO DO: 

Fill in four or more sticky notes early in Act II with scenes that show your character encountering this New World of Act II, bumping up against its strangeness, experiencing that it's different from the world left behind in Act I.

Again, do this as a thought experiment-- don't wait until you have perfect ideas, just imagine what might work here. DO make sure the scenes are concrete: things you can picture visually.

Filling in the Sticky Notes: Act I

This is a series of posts I'm writing as a followup to my Mapping the Plot class. Even if you didn't take the class you might find something useful here!

Everyone left Saturday's class with posterboard folded into three act-sections, with the middle one being twice as long as the ones on either end. Also lots of sticky notes, some filled in, some blank. These posts will be geared towards filling in some of those still-blank notes. 

We talked about Emma Coats' Pixar's 22 Rules of Storytelling, and in particular about Rule #4: "Once upon a time there was ___. Every day, ___. One day ___. Because of that, ___. Because of that, ___. Until finally ___."

In Act I, you filled in the sticky for your first scene. This establishes the context (time, place) and the character within that context. In other words, "Once upon a time, there was _________" is covered (or at least starting to be established) in Scene 1. 

The following scenes will cover "Every day, ________."

In The Wizard of Oz, for example, these are the scenes with Dorothy on the farm, the ups and downs of Kansas farm life. 

These scenes may include the "I Want Song" idea discussed in class: your character showing us what s/he Wants. (For example, "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" in Wizard of Oz.)

--

Here are a few other examples of Act I/ setting up the-world-as-it-is, using narratives we've discussed recently in my classes:

-In "The Birds" by Daphne DuMaurier, this covers about the first page of the story. Where does the narrative shift from things-as-usual to the "One day _______" phase? I think this occurs with the line at the bottom of page 1: "The birds had been more restless than ever this fall of the year."

-"Indian Camp" by Ernest Hemingway is a tiny story and barely has room for an Act I, but you can see the world-as-it-is sketched for us as Nick and his dad are leaving it: we infer it's a known place, and a place where Dad has authority and can handle things. Whatever the Known, Usual world is, we know we're leaving it as we get on that boat. "One day, ______" is Nick getting on a boat to head out to the Camp.

-In the pilot for The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, I think it's in the wedding monologue, the main character's survey of her life/past, in which everything has always gone according to her careful plans . . . up to meeting Joel, who wasn't exactly the prince she planned on. ("One day, ______" is: she meets Joel.) Next, we'll embark on the next phase/new world: Life with Joel.

-in Margaret Atwood's "Stone Mattress," this is the section where Verna follows her usual habit of scanning the crowd for men of interest, dressing to attract, etc. The "One day, _____" event occurs when she recognizes one of the Bobs as the Bob. ("Verna smiles widely to disguise her shock" is the exact moment.)

--

TO DO:

Fill in more of the sticky notes in your Act I section-- at least four-- with scenes that might show us the world-as-it-is. 

Also, if you didn't do it Saturday, fill in the "One day, _____" sticky note which will come somewhere at the end of Act I.

Remember this is a thought experiment and it's not necessary to find the perfect answers or to be rigid about anything. Just come up with four or more scene ideas to show us different aspects of the Known World of Act I and fill up that column of the posterboard.

Mapping the Plot - Saturday 12/15

Mapping the Plot

Saturday, December 15

12:30 to 4:30

Hudson Valley Writers' Center

Sleepy Hollow, NY

~.:.~

SIGN UP HERE

Spend an afternoon with snacks, coffee, markers, index cards, and poster board at the Hudson Valley Writers' Center, mapping out a plot for your novel.

Whether you're in the revision stage and want to find the structure in your story, or are in the dreaming stage and want to lay down a blueprint for your novel-to-be, this class will give you the tools and time to do it.

Participants will leave with a physical plot map constructed during the afternoon, plus exercises, readings, and a personalized timetable with deadlines for the next stage of your writing/ revision.

SIGN UP HERE

Star Map, Albrecht Durer, 1515

Mapping the Plot

~.:.~

Come meet this plug-in fireplace at my class Mapping The Plot 

in Sleepy Hollow on Saturday 12/15.

~.:.~

SIGN UP HERE

~.:.~

Saturday One-Day Intensive in Sleepy Hollow

Mapping the Plot

Saturday, December 15

12:30 to 4:30

Hudson Valley Writers' Center

Sleepy Hollow, NY

~.:.~

SIGN UP HERE

On December 15, 2018, I'll be teaching a four-hour intensive called Mapping the Plot. This is a great class to take if you have something written and are ready to look it over with an eye to shaping and structure. We'll discuss topics such as arc, ordering events, and scene construction. These will be explored through in-class exercises, readings, and sharing short samples of work. During the course of the four hours, participants will build a map of their projected plot, on paper, to take home.

Yes, it's four hours . . . THERE WILL BE FOOD AND CAFFEINE and lots of bathroom breaks. We'll be having so much fun with markers, words, and charts that it will go by fast!

SIGN UP HERE

Star Map, Albrecht Durer, 1515

New Class for Yale Writers' Workshop 2019

A new class I'm teaching in June! Excited about this new format, which will allow us to dig deep, really get to know everyone's project, and generate new material too. Announcement from Jotham Burrello/Yale Writers' Workshop:

~:~

YWW News Flash: I’m pleased to announce a New Intensive Workshop for 2019!

Work In Progress Intensive. This unique ten-day workshop is designed for writers working on book-length material: fiction or nonfiction, taught by YWW faculty member Kirsten Bakis. This cohort of just eight writers will meet and write for ten days next June. (Read: you’re in New Haven for both sessions.) This program is open to YWW alumni.


In Session I writers will critique 7000 words from their fellow writers’ manuscripts. Exercises and readings will be assigned prior to arrival.

Session II will be generative, a mini-retreat if you will, with writers developing new material. The cohort will meet to discuss progress, and strategies to completing confident first drafts.

More information in December newsletter. Applications open January 2019.

~:~

For more information or to be updated when applications open, use the CONTACT ME form on the right!

Van Gogh, Blossoming Almond Branch in a Glass with a Book, 1888

Writing prompt for the day: burnt socks

“You don't write about the horrors of war. No. You write about a kid's burnt socks lying in the road.”
― Richard Price

Read: Today's reading is the super-short prose poem "The Colonel" by Carolyn Forche. It has been included in both poetry and short story anthologies. Whatever you want to call it, it's a masterpiece of compression: of telling a big story in a limited space. Notice how the small, concrete details-- the window gratings, the good wine, the Colonel's response to the parrot saying hello-- tell a larger story.


Write: Set the timer for fifteen minutes. Start with a concrete detail and write your scene from there. This can be the next scene you're planning to work on in your current project.

Or, get one or two details below and build a scene from them. (Random number generator here.)


1. a necklace lying in the dirt

2. a reflection in broken glass

3. a stain

4. a cracked egg

5. a spilled salt shaker

6. an open book

7. a ship in a bottle

8. a door standing ajar

9. a burnt match

10. a dripping faucet

11. a dead moth

12. a bouquet of roses

13. footprints in snow

14. a cloud of smoke

15. an iron frying pan

16. the remnants of a campfire

17. half a cake

18. knitting needles on a table

19. a half-melted ice cube

20. a "World's Best Dad" mug

21. a very neatly made bed

Prompt for the day: Surprise

Read: “Hearts and Hands” by O. Henry; “The Flowers” by Alice Walker

Optional commentary: O. Henry is famous for his twist endings, much emulated to the dismay of college writing teachers everywhere, because beginning writers think a twist ending means throwing a random monkey wrench into the story in the last paragraph. The key to a good twist ending (or mystery) is that when you go back and read the story again, you see the clues were in plan sight all along. Read the O. Henry story again after you find out what the ending is. Do you agree the clues are there?  

Do you think the same is true of the Alice Walker story: are the clues to the ending there all along? Are they present in the same way that the O. Henry clues are? 

In my Wednesday class, one student talked about how when she teaches literature, she talks about the "internal story" vs the "external story"-- basically, what is contained in the story on the page (internal) vs what context it comes from in terms of culture, the writer's place in the culture, etc. (external). Do you think both of these are at play in Walker story? 

How do you write this type of story or passage, with a surprise or a twist at the end? I'm sure there are as many ways as there are writers, but two possibilities are: 1) you can come up with the ending first and plant the clues as you go or 2) write something, see where it takes you, and then go back and plant the clues when you revise. (I would be a #2 type of writer.) 

Write: For some reason, this exercise often brings me to a surprising place in the space of fifteen minutes. Try it!

Prompt for the day: The "I Want" Song

It's not really that there is a "formula" for these things, but I have learned over the years that pretty much any successful musical you can name has an "I Want" song for its main character within the first fifteen or so minutes of the show. 

--Stephen Schwartz

--

If your main character sang an "I Want" song, what would it sound like? Set the timer for 15 minutes and write one in any form: dialogue, a daydream, a stream-of-consciousness passage. . .

Writing prompt for the day: Morally questionable

Read

 "My First Goose" by Isaac Babel


Write

Set the timer for fifteen minutes. Show your main character doing something morally questionable.

Prompt for the day: Question and answer

Read 

This is the same great story from a couple of days ago, looked at from another angle.

"Lather and Nothing Else" by Hernando Tellez (very short)

Here's an example of one of the most simple kinds of plot. A question is posed in the beginning and not answered until the end. That's all it takes to pull us through and make the narrative feel like it has forward motion.

Notice how the writer takes his time getting to the answer, yet each paragraph takes us closer--he doesn't go off in another direction.

In one of my classes recently someone brought up the question of "changing the subject" in a narrative--moving away from something that has emotional heat, and is maybe difficult to write about.  It's pretty clear where the emotional heat is located in this story, and the author never really moves away from it or changes the subject. At the same time, you could legitimately call this a quiet, slow, or subtle story.

Write

Set the timer for fifteen minutes and write a scene in which a question is posed in the beginning and not answered until the end. This could be something as simple as whether the main character gets a sandwich she's hungry for, or it could be something bigger. 

Prompt for the day: Iceburg

Read

The very short story "The Old Man at the Bridge" by Ernest Hemingway

One of the pleasures of reading Hemingway is the sense of power under the surface. There's always much unsaid, but you can feel it. Do you think that's true here? What is it?

Note the difference between being vague about something, vs. leaving it unstated yet letting its emotional power seep through every pore of the story.


Write

2 Options for prompt:

1) Set the timer for fifteen minutes. Write a conversation in which something remains unsaid.

OR

2) Do the classic John Gardner exercise: Describe a lake as seen by a young man who has just committed murder. Do not mention the murder.

Prompt for the day: Slow . . . way . . . down . . .

Read

"Lather and Nothing Else" by Hernando Tellez

As writers, we sometimes find ourselves worrying about boring the reader, and as a result, rushing forward from one plot point or bit of action to the next. (This varies a lot depending on when and where you came of age as a writer! But I have see it a lot in my classes.) In this short piece, the entire story takes place in one long . . . slow . . . scene.

And yet somehow there was no chance that I was going to get bored and stop reading this.

(It also reminds me of Lee Child's secret of suspense: Pose a question and make the reader wait for the answer. That's it--the whole secret.)


Write
Think of the next scene you want to work on. Set the timer for fifteen minutes and start, but slow . . . way . . . down . . .

What did this do to your scene? Did it add anything interesting, did it seem to make it too slow . . . ?

"The Tell-Tale Heart," by Edgar Allan Poe & POV Exercise

This week in my classes we've been discussing "The Tell-Tale Heart" by Edgar Allan Poe. Great, classic unreliable narrator story. So short. Takes 5 minutes to read. Perfect for Halloween season.

Note how he addresses the reader-- trying to convince us of something. Are you convinced by the end? Note how he tells you one thing (that he's perfectly sane! sane, I tell you!) and shows another. 

Even though we are only seeing through his POV--and never through anyone else's POV-- he shows us something that he himself does not know. (How batshit crazy he is.) 

I can't emphasize enough how handy this is to remember when you are inside your character's POV: You can show us things your character does not know.

Exercise: Set the timer for 15 minutes. Writing from your main character's point of view, show us something your character is not aware of. 

The closest thing to a rule

There are three rules for writing a novel. Unfortunately, no one knows what they are. 

—Somerset Maugham (probably)

--


Some thoughts I wrote for a student recently:


If you ever feel your story going down a rabbit hole of wordplay, experimental formatting, layered storytelling . . . pull back and remember that while this can be fun, you don't don’t want it to eclipse the heart of the story. We turn the page because we want to know what happens to a character we care about. It really boils down to that. There really aren’t many rules for writing fiction, but this comes closest to being a universal rule: We turn the page because we want to know what happens to a character we care about.

Yes, there can also be a second and third character we care about.

We don’t have to always like the characters or agree with them. (Just as we don’t always like or agree with the people we care about in real life!)

The world in which they’re operating doesn’t have to be our world, or realistic, though we do have to know the rules of your particular world . . . so we can understand what’s happening to that character we care about.

The characters don’t have to be human: they can be nonhuman animals, spirits, mechanical beings . . .

But we have to believe in them, feel them as 3-dimensional so that it matters to us what happens to them.

Year of Your Book fiction class at Hudson Valley Writers' Center

New sessions starting 10/31 and 11/5


Year of Your Book
Hudson Valley Writers' Center
Wednesdays 10:15 to 12:15
Oct. 31 through Dec. 7
$320

This class is for fiction writers at all stages, including beginners, who are working on a short story collection or a novel. Everyone is welcome!


Advanced Year of Your Book
Hudson Valley Writers' Center
Mondays 10:30 to 12:30
November 5 through December 10
$320

This class is for fiction writers who have a draft, or most of a draft, of a story collection or novel. Must apply with ten-page sample. See link above for details.

Keeping Going: Next Session Starts Oct. 23

Keeping Going

Online Class

Assignments Tuesdays and Fridays 

Six weeks: October 23 through November 30

$300

For those who live too far away or whose schedule can't accommodate my Year of Your Book class at HVWC, Keeping Going is an online class with a similar format. It's for anyone working on a fiction project-- story or novel-- at any stage. We'll discuss goals, keep you accountable, and have twice-weekly short exercises focused on issues such as dialogue, point of view, handling backstory, character arcs, story beats, narrative distance, and other aspects of craft. Exercises are shared with the class and I respond to all of them. Click CONTACT ME on the right to ask me about or to sign up now! 

Keeping Going / Advanced

Online Class

Assignments Tuesdays and Fridays 

Six weeks: October 23 through November 30

$300

Same as above, but for those who already have most of a draft written. Must apply with a ten-page sample. Click CONTACT ME on the right for more information.

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NOTE: For those who can't afford these classes, I'll be posting a lot of our exercises and readings online. Watch this space! The difference is you won't get feedback on your writing. To discuss one-on-one feedback, please contact me.

Read: "A Manual for Cleaning Women" by Lucia Berlin

Once we made a pact… if things weren’t okay by 1976 we were going to have a shoot-out at the end of the Marina. You didn’t trust me, said I would shoot you first and run, or shoot myself first, whatever. I’m tired of the bargain, Ter.

"A Manual for Cleaning Women" is from the collection of the same title by Lucia Berlin. An amazing writer.

Some things to look at in this story:


Point of view

Notice how firmly we're located in the POV of this narrator, following her train of thought.


Backstory

Notice how the "now" of the story is organized (bus trips) and how moments in the present spark specific memories/thoughts about the past.

Notice how our understanding of the past (relationship with Ter) grows a bit each time it's touched on.


Arc

Also pay attention to the arc of the "now" story. At first glance this may look like a random listing of bus trips, but something is changing inside the narrator. She is in a different place emotionally by the end from where she was at the beginning. What has changed?

Exercise for the day: Nine-box visual outline

Here's an interesting method of outlining from Benjamin Hale, sent to me by a student in today's class: It's a nine-box visual outline which can be found along with some other thoughts on structure in

this blog post

Some people like to make outlines early in the process, some after a draft or several are already written and the structure needs visualizing/tweaking. The earlier in the process you do it, the more likely it is that your actual story, when you write it, will go off the grid. You can't use your intellect to come up with the perfect idea and then force your characters to follow this exactly. But an outline is a great tool to get a snapshot of the shape of your story as you understand it at the moment-- whether that moment is part of the first draft or the revision process. (I strongly recommend the latter! But everybody is different.)

Try this with your story. Don't let it eat up your writing time for the day. Set the timer for 20 minutes (or even 10), chart as much as you can, then move on.

Exercise for the day: Three Elements

This is a fun thing to do. Every issue of 3 Elements has a theme: three elements that have to be included in each story or poem. The current submission period is for the winter issue, and the elements are gristle, bolt, and kitchen table. Details here. Deadline 10/31/18.

Exercise for the day: Dialogue

Below is a passage with dialogue from "Good Country People" by Flannery O'Connor

Cast of characters:  

Mrs. Hopewell, genteel southern lady who approves of "salt of the earth" type "good country people" and loves platitudes. 

"The girl," Mrs. Hopewell's daughter, has a PhD, stuck living with her mother due to physical issues, perpetually snide and furious 

Mrs. Freeman, their salt-of-the-earth tenant who has two daughters of her own. One, Carramae, 15, married and pregnant, has morning sickness.

--

“Well, Glynese is a fine girl,” Mrs. Hopewell said. “Glynese and Carramae are both fine girls.”

“Carramae said when her and Lyman was married Lyman said it sure felt sacred to him. She said he said he wouldn't take five hundred dollars for being married by a preacher.”

“How much would he take?” the girl asked from the stove.

“He said he wouldn't take five hundred dollars,” Mrs. Freeman repeated.

“Well we all have work to do,” Mrs. Hopewell said. 

“Lyman said it just felt more sacred to him,” Mrs. Freeman said. “The doctor wants Carramae to eat prunes. Says instead of medicine. Says them cramps is coming from pressure. You know where I think it is?”

“She'll be better in a few weeks,” Mrs. Hopewell said.

“In the tube,” Mrs. Freeman said. “Else she wouldn't be as sick as she is.”

--from "Good Country People" by Flannery O'Connor (read the whole story HERE)

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This is a great story for, among other things, its dialogue. Here are a few things to look for in the exchange above:

-Do the three people have distinct voices, ways of speaking? Can you tell them apart?

-Are they having the same conversation? Or are they having three different conversations? Are questions directly asked and answered, or is something more complex going on where everyone is maybe a little bit off in their own world?

-- 

Exercise 

Set the timer for 20 minutes

Work on a scene in your story that includes dialogue. Let us hear how the characters have distinct voices and make us aware in some way--whatever way you choose--that they are coming to the conversation from slightly different places, with slightly different agendas.

Reading: "Stone Mattress" by Margaret Atwood

At the outset Verna had not intended to kill anyone. What she had in mind was a vacation, pure and simple. Take a breather, do some inner accounting, shed worn skin. The Arctic suits her: there’s something inherently calming in the vast cool sweeps of ice and rock and sea and sky, undisturbed by cities and highways and trees and the other distractions that clutter up the landscape to the south.

Among the clutter she includes other people, and by other people she means men. She’s had enough of men for a while.

Written in 2011, yet so timely. Also a such a pleasure: a master of the form at the top of her game. 

"Stone Mattress" by Margaret Atwood

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Things to notice in this story (besides everything) -- Look at the role of backstory/ exposition in this piece. This is a problem everybody wrestles with: how to handle exposition. How she do it here? How does the story of what happened in the past work as part of the present-time narrative? How do the revelations contribute to forward-moving action in the present?

Quick exercise for the day: Random word jumpstart

Often the challenge in getting your draft written is just getting yourself to write . . . the next . . . sentence. And then the next.

Here's a quick jumpstart for when you're feeling stuck.

Random Word Jumpstart

Open your document to the next scene you have to write. Go to this random word generator. Take the five words it suggests. The next sentence you write has to contain the first one. The second sentence, the second one. Until you get to five. (Set a timer for ten minutes and do this fast.) Yes, all of this has to happen within the context of writing your next scene.

Exercise for the day: Draw your story

Sometimes when I start new classes, as I did last week at the Hudson Valley Writers' Center, I talk myself through my nervousness by thinking of my job not as teaching, but as listening.

I think about ways I can listen to writers: to their work, their feelings about their work, their questions about it. How can I ask new questions and see things from different angles?

Here's something I tried last week that gave me(and the writers. an interesting visual snapshot of where they are with their work now, at the beginning of the fall session.

I put my kids' magic markers in a bag, brought them to class, and dumped them out in the middle of our big table. I gave everyone 11  x 17 paper and asked them to turn it to landscape orientation. 

Turning paper sideways (an idea often used with mind mapping), and using different colors and sizes of markers are all ways to pop yourself out of the linear, purely verbal, black-and-white thinking you most often use when you're writing, editing, and revising. 

I set the timer for seven minutes and asked everyone to make a visual representation of their plot-- in ANY way they wanted. Using shapes, figures, squiggles, words, colors. I emphasized there was no pressure to be artistic or clever; that if your best visualization is nothing but a straight red line, or a frowny face with a tear coming out of its eye, that's valid. Everything is valid, as long as it's honest. 

Then we went around the table and had each person explain how they're seeing their book right now, using what they'd drawn. After each person spoke we responded with our impressions.

Try it! 

Draw your story

Get a piece of paper (11 x 17, regular printer paper, whatever) and some colors (markers, pens, pencils). Turn the paper sideways. Set the timer for seven minutes. Set down any kind of visual representation of your plot, moving from one end of the paper to the other. 

This is a way of listening to yourself, and seeing your story from a new angle. What do you learn about your story from doing this? What's strong in it? What's missing? 

Exercise of the Day 9/15: Evil twin

My fall classes have started so I'm going back to posting more exercises of the day. I started this as a way to record exercises I often use.

This week in one of my HVWC classes we talked about how easy it is to get in a rut with your main character. We often give our protagonists so much baggage: we want them to represent us, or to read as a good/moral/smart person. Minor characters can do fun and unexpected things while our heroes get sort of stiff and stuck. For this I like to suggest an exercise called "Evil Twin."

Evil Twin

Think of the next scene you need to write or revise. Set the timer for fifteen minutes. Instead of writing what your main character would do in this situation, write what their evil twin would do.

--

People often find they want to actually use this scene when it's done.

The secret is that your character's evil twin is actually your character. Just the part of themselves that they try to keep hidden.

Try it!


Note: My use of the singular "they" is intentional. Let's all start using it!

Exercise for the day, 8/10: Make some rules

"Talent is insignificant. I know a lot of talented ruins. Beyond talent lie all the usual words: discipline, love, luck, but, most of all, endurance."

—James Baldwin 

What is your daily writing practice? Do you have one? Or do you too often let your writing time disappear because loading the dishwasher seems more urgent, or you're afraid the stuff you're writing isn't worthwhile?

Working on it is how you make it worthwhile. How you find out what is alive in it and what needs to be changed. What you care about vs what you were just faking.

I find it most helpful to write down one simple goal at a time, and put it somewhere I can see it (not just in my head). E.g. a post-it that says, "1,000 words/day" stuck to my computer. I tend to get distracted, so this keeps bringing me back to that one simple goal. Everything else is optional.

Here's a description of a more elaborate system from Aimee Bender. Hers includes accountability. Like having a jogging buddy, it can be great to have a writing buddy. This summer I've been pairing up my students to set daily goals and text each other a pencil emoji each day when they reach their goal. It's amazing how much it can help to know that someone out there is going to notice whether you text your pencil today or not.

Exercise for the day, 8/9: Do not mention the murder

Some exercises in description from John Gardner's classic The Art of Fiction. 

4a. Describe a landscape as seen by an old woman whose disgusting and detestable old husband has just died. Do not mention the husband or death. 

4b. Describe a lake as seen by a young man who has just committed murder. Do not mention the murder. 

4c. Describe a landscape as seen by a bird. Do not mention the bird. 

4d. Describe a building as seen by a man whose son has just been killed in a war. Do not mention the son, war, death, or the old man doing the seeing; then describe the same building, in the same weather and at the same time of day, as seen by a happy lover. Do not mention love or the loved one.

What do these have in common? They all concern description. They all use the phrase "as seen by," asking you to notice how your POV character's subjective way of seeing influences what appears in your story.  They all ask you to make us feel an emotional truth of the story by showing it though the character's experience, without telling us directly what it is.

(Note in 4d the phrase, in the same weather and at the same time of day. No rain for sadness/sunny days for happiness.)

You could choose one of these and spend ten minutes on it. Then, next time you sit down with your own story, think about how the surroundings are filtered through your character's experience. How description can be a tool to show your characters' emotions. How even a landscape can be saturated with mood and meaning.

Exercise for the day, 8/8: The spine of your story

A writer always begins by being too complicated—he’s playing at several games at once.

—Jorge Luis Borges

For a minute, stop thinking about all the games you may want your story to play, and think about this. At a basic level, almost every story is about 

a character (at least one) 

who takes a journey 

from Point A to Point B. 

This could be an emotional journey, a physical one, or both. In some way, the character starts in one place on the first page, and ends up somewhere different by the last page. 

Who is your main character? Just for now, pick one.

What is the journey? Describe it in one sentence.

What is Point A--that is, where do we find your character on page 1?

What is Point B--what is the different place your character gets to by the last page?

Exercise for the day, August 7: Fix

Well, my process kind of works sideways. I never really think about taking on an issue or writing about a certain thing. It’s more about trying to find a voice that is fun to do and in which I can feel some sort of power. . . And then at some point you look up and you’ve made a person, who is in a certain fix. . . 

—George Saunders

George Saunders is a popular author (once had an essay featured on a Chipotle bag) and a writer's writer (lots of us love hearing him talk about his process, as here). His approach is literary: humane, intuitive, exploratory, character-focused. All things that feel familiar from my years at the Iowa Writers' Workshop. 

I was surprised and thrilled when, years later, I read my first book on screenwriting. The blunt talk about plots, the nuts and bolts of creating momentum and excitement, hooking the audience, controlling pacing, raising stakes . . . these were things we were practically forbidden to talk about in graduate school. Why? The emphasis there was on creating literature, on some kind of search for truth that could not be hemmed in by prescriptive approaches. 

But really, when you come down to it, all of us have to navigate the same waters. We all have to deal with art and craft, character and plot, logic and mystery, creation and revision. 

Anyway, there's a short, fun screenwriting book called Save the Cat by Blake Snyder which I refer to a lot in my classes. It's incredibly prescriptive. In Snyder's carefully laid out theory, your story must have a handful of specific beats, and there's an actual page number where each one has to occur. Everything can be neatly plotted out on index cards. Very comforting. Even though it's an illusion. Even though I know that in reality Snyder had to trek through the same swamps as the rest of us, his thoughts about plot can be very useful.

Here's an exercise I like to do in class:

Six things that need fixing. This is my phrase, six is an arbitrary number, that stands for the laundry list you must show — repeat SHOW — the audience of what is missing in the hero's life. Like little time bombs, these Six Things That Need Fixing, these character tics and flaws, will be exploded later in the script, turned on their heads and cured.  

—Blake Snyder, Save the Cat 

Take ten minutes and brainstorm about your main character at the beginning of your story. What, in their life, needs fixing? Or in Saunders' words, what kind of fix are they in?

Note: Brainstorming means you write down any crazy idea that comes along, even if it makes no sense. You can always cross them off later. Don't stop writing till the timer goes off.

Exercise for the day, August 6: Make them wait four hours for dinner

Lee Child separates the question of good writing from the mechanics of getting the reader to turn the page, in his essay "A Simple Way to Create Suspense."

Read it, then look at his very short story "Guy Walks Into a Bar." 

To see what the story is doing, print it out or cut and paste it into a doc, so you can make margin notes. Every time Lee poses a question, make a note next to it: Q1 for the first, Q2 for the second. Then note where each question is answered: A1, A2 . . . Draw an arrow in the margin between each question and its answer.  This really lays out how the questions, answers, and partial answers lead you from one paragraph to the next.

Here's the first paragraph:

SHE was about 19. No older. Maybe younger. An insurance company would have given her 60 more years to live. I figured a more accurate projection was 36 hours, or 36 minutes if things went wrong from the get-go.

Are you going to read on? Why?

Writing exercise for the day, August 5: You don't choose a story

You don’t choose a story, it chooses you. 

—Robert Penn Warren

Have you been trying to choose your story? Or have you been letting one choose you?

Get a piece of paper and a pen, even if you never write that way. Fill half the page with answers to this question. Then get back to your writing.

Exercise for the Day, August 4: A Writer's Scaffolding

I eschew a distinction between “art” and “craft” in fiction because they aren’t terms in disagreement — the craft of writing fiction supports the art. 

—Jeff VanderMeer

This quote is from Jeff VanderMeer on the Art and Science of Structuring a Novel in Electric Literature. Here's a passage from it:

What do I mean by “a writer’s scaffolding”? I mean something in addition to what seem the basics of what I need to start writing after having first thought about a story for a long time. Those basics are pretty…basic. Knowing where the story starts; a character I’ve come to know well; a sense of where the character is going (either figuratively or literally); a charged image connected to the character; and an ending, even if that ending changes before I reach it.

Set the timer for ten minutes and ask yourself if you know the answers to these basic questions for your story.

What is a "charged image connected to the character" for you? Set the timer for five minutes and put down as much as you know about this image.

Fundraiser Update Post

August 3

UPDATE: Midnight: winners chosen at $120 and $110  

In addition, a third person donated to RAICES with the request that I give a free consult to a woman who is an immigrant with a story to tell. If you know of someone who might be interested, please pass on the info. CONTACT ME form is on the right side of this page. 

Thank you so much to all who bid! 

UPDATE 5:40 pm: Bids are up to $120 and $110

UPDATE 10:40 am: Bids are up to $100 and $110

I'm offering two private consults in at Hudson Valley Writers' Center in exchange for donations to RAICES Texas. Bidding ends midnight August 3. Donations made directly to RAICES - I'll ask for winners' receipts. Use the CONTACT ME form on the right to get in touch.

Private Consults / Donations to RAICES - Bidding Ends Tomorrow!

I'm offering two private consults in at Hudson Valley Writers' Center in exchange for donations to RAICES Texas.


Bidding ends midnight August 3


Opening bid for one is $25 and for the other only $5


Please bid whatever you can afford Donations will be made directly to RAICES - all I will ask for is the receipt.


Use the CONTACT ME form on the right to get in touch.

Exercise for the day August 2: Permission to be entertaining

People want a method to the form. Mine is the unmethod method. Get a little quiet. Ask the story what it is. “I’m boring,” the story says. Then give yourself permission to be entertaining.

—George Saunders

Bad choices make good stories 

—Some T-shirt

We can sometimes be overcautious with our main characters because we want readers to like them, or because we fear their extreme behavior could somehow reflect badly on us. What if you freed yourself of that? 

For your next scene: don't write what your character would do. Write what your character's evil twin would do.

When I give this exercise, the "evil twin" scenes often start out as just an experiment but end up in the actual story. . . because it turns out they're entertaining.

Exercise for the day, July 28: Duos, trios, and ensembles

More on characters and their relationships.


How many characters are at the center of your story? Two, three, more? Just for fun, scan these lists and see if your characters fit, even loosely, with any of these tropes. What ideas can you pick up about the ways in which they're different, play off one another, bump up against one another?

Duo tropes

Power trios

Ensembles

Exercise for the day, July 27: Take a bad scene . . .

A revision exercise:

Find a "bad" scene. Something you're struggling with, that just isn't working right.

Answer the questions below:

-What is your character's motivation in this scene? (Pick one central character to answer for.)

-What specific goal goes along with this motivation? For example, if your character is motivated by a desire to forget a failed love affair, the specific goal might be to get drunk.

-Why does this matter? What happens if they don't achieve their goal?

-What changes for your character between the first sentence of this scene, and the last sentence?

-State this in your character's voice. E.g. "I'd gone into the meeting looking for a solution to one problem; but by the time I came out I had a new problem, and this one was a whole lot bigger."

I'll bet you've learned at least one new thing about your scene by doing this . . . now go rewrite!

Exercise for the day, July 26: Witness

The poem of witness is the eye of knowledge:
to understand it, gaze into your heart and mind.

Without the song of testimony,
the quarrels of this world don’t end.

—Kabir



Set the timer for fifteen minutes. (If you can't do that, do ten, or even five.)

Ask one of your characters: What is something you witnessed, that matters? Tell me about it.

You're not going for "good" writing, but for the most honest answer possible from your character. It's okay if it's halting or fragmentary.

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Exercise for the day, 7/25: Humans working at cross purposes

Plot is people. Human emotions and desires founded on the realities of life, working at cross purposes, getting hotter and fiercer as they strike against each other until finally there’s an explosion—that’s Plot.

—Leigh Brackett


Purpose: To bring your attention to the ways in which your characters are different from one another and have different desires, and to think about how that informs their actions.

-Who are the main characters in your story? Are there two, three, more? Spend ten minutes answering the Proust Questionnaire for each one. What new angle does this give you on how they might behave, as you sit down with your next scene?

Hourlong Private Consults in return for donations to RAICES Texas

I've been getting a lot of interest but no offers so I've added STARTING BIDS-- please see below

I'm teaming up with the Hudson Valley Writers' Center to offer two hourlong private fiction-writing consults in their beautiful space in Sleepy Hollow, NY, in return for donations to RAICES Texas.

On July 24, RAICES tweeted: “Children are still in cages. Parents still don’t know where their children are. Some were coerced illegally into leaving the country. The media isn’t writing as many stories but the problem has not gone away.”

For one of the hours I'll take the highest offer
STARTING BID $25

I'd like to give the other to someone working to fight xenophobia and bigotry, either in your life or in your writing or both (including being a writer from a community that could use more representation)
STARTING BID $5


I'll be taking offers until August 3. Use the "CONTACT ME" form to get in touch.

About me

What can you do with this consult?

-Tell me about a novel or story you've always wished you could write and what's stood in your way, and we'll talk about how to get started and make a plan (if you decide you really want to!).

-Tell me about the novel or story you're working on and where you're challenged.

-Note: It's optional to bring pages of writing. I suggest bringing only a couple, or a longer piece with a scene or two highlighted. If you want me to read more before we get together let's discuss.

-Tell me about your novel that stalled years ago, and work out a plan for what to do next.

-Talk about anything writing-related at all—it's 100% your time!

Exercise for the day, July 24: Problem + Character

Problem + Character: Ten Minutes

What we did in class yesterday.

Most exercises I give can be directly related to the project you're working on. This one asks you to step away from it for ten minutes and mess around with something else. It can be helpful to remember what it feels like to write without all the baggage and worry of your current story; to feel the stakes are low and you can just play, and it doesn't matter whether it's "good" or "bad."

Get a RANDOM NUMBER between 1 and 24

This is your CHARACTER

Get ANOTHER NUMBER

This is their PROBLEM

Get another NUMBER

This WORD OR PHRASE will be in your first sentence

Set the timer for ten minutes.

Write. Don't stop. Even if you're literally typing, "Blah blah blah, I don't know what to say," keep going until the timer goes off.

Exercise of the day: July 23 — Proust Questionnaire

Character Exercise: Proust Questionnaire


You may be familiar with the Proust Questionnaire from Vanity Fair magazine, which uses it to interview celebrities. It has its origins in late-19th and early-twentieth-century British querist's albums and books of drawing room confessions, conversation-starting guest books you'd keep in the parlor. Marcel Proust's version has remained popular.

There are many character-building exercises that ask you to imagine details about your character's life: her childhood, her morning commute,  her favorite breakfast, etc. I like this one because it's detailed enough to bring up interesting things you may not have asked your character about before, but sticks to questions that are pithy and revealing.

It's especially interesting to do this with your main character. It's interesting how we can live with someone day after day and assume we know them  well . . . and yet there's often much we don't know. (This goes for real people and fictional characters.)

-  THE PROUST QUESTIONNAIRE  -

There are a few ways to use this.

-Answer for your main character

-Answer for any character you want to understand

-Answer for two or more to see their differences (really interesting)

-Answer for yourself, and then your main character, to explore the ways in which your main character is not you (also very interesting)

-If you don't want your writing time to be hijacked by this, set the timer for fifteen minutes and answer as many questions as you can in that time

Querist's albums in a British catalogue, 1906