I have a list of favorite opening lines from works of fiction — in four neat stacks! — but I don’t want to show them just yet. Today, I just want to settle a few things about opening lines.
Ready for a little heresy? Then, you’ve come to the right place. Let’s go!
I realize that this is one of the Ten Commandments of writing advice in this era of slushpiles runneth over, but “Thou Shalt Write A Killer Opening Sentence” is silliness.
You’ve come a long way, baby! I mean … um … ladies.
Women have made a lot of progress over the past century, particularly in the Western world. Western readers in the 21st Century have a low tolerance for the sort of overt sexism that readers of previous eras — and in broad stretches of the map even today — would simply take for granted. This puts a lot of pressure on writers of historical fiction and fantasy set in a fictional past. How can we tell a story with female characters which won’t offend (or worse, bore) modern readers, but which also doesn’t seem hokey in its chronological context?
Well, there are at least four approaches to this dilemma…
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You might have heard that different types of creative writing require different approaches: what makes a good novel isn’t the same as what makes a good short story, a good poem, or a good film.
While this is certainly true, I think the distinctions between different forms of creative writing are over-emphasized. Despite differences in presentation, length, and form there is a lot in common among different forms of art, particularly in terms of process, and a lot that can be learned across boundaries.
In this context, let’s discuss what fiction writers can learn from music and movies in regard to revision suggestions from first readers, agents, and editors.
So, I walked to work today.
Those of you who know me RT might be saying, “Why did you walk so far?!” Well, it’s only eight and a half miles, and I had several good reasons — all of which can help improve your writing.
Occasionally names are mere placeholders in fiction.
Typically, however, a writer selects them with great care, to evoke a mood or hint at a secret, symbolic meaning. Choosing names for characters and places can be an involved, even agonizing process. And, it can be a major source of writer’s block.
Let’s face it, we are not all equipped to derive the name of every place and person meticulously from obscure ancient words the way a trained linguist like Tolkien would be. And we don’t all have the ready wit of Dickens. Most of us need more mundane inspiration.
Here are four places a writer can turn for name ideas when the creative juices are just not flowing as they should.
Today I want to perform a philosophical genealogy, tracing today’s deluge of aspiring authors to the political and theological underpinnings of the Modern age.
Roll with me on this one; I rarely get to use my formal training in comparative religion here, and I promise this isn’t going to be a conversion blog or an Anne Rice-style rant. So, let me state up front that this is more about tracing the path of an idea popular among present-day book enthusiasts than promoting or dismissing any of its religious or political ancestors.
Last night I walked to the National Mall (because I can) to watch the Independence Day fireworks.
In the course of my travels through the crowd I witnessed several conversations and scenes that could very easily be adapted to fiction.
Today, in the aftermath of the long-anticipated Lost finale, I want to investigate good and bad ways to finish a storyline driven by suspense.
I have to admit up front that I am not a fan of the recently concluded Lost series. I’m not an anti-fan either; I just never watched it.
When the buzz about Lost started really kicking in, and everyone I knew began proselytizing the show like freshly shaved cultists, I started having Twin Peaks flashbacks. There was no way I was going to get psychologically invested in a show about weird goings on that would never be explained.
Once bitten, and all that.
Judging from the reactions of many Lost fans to last night’s finale, my caution was prescient. Despite resolution on a few interpersonal issues between the characters, I have heard from more than one Loster (Lostie?) that the end of the series left most of the questions completely unanswered.
But, looking at this problem as a reader/writer of fiction, it does highlight an intriguing aspect of audience satisfaction.
Resolution of suspense — emotional, narrative, or otherwise — is a hallmark of good writing in any genre. Even when issues are purposefully left unresolved (Is Han Solo Gandalf Captain Jack Sparrow really dead?!) it usually implies a promise of future resolution in the form of another episode.
