Stacia Kane

So, first, sorry. I didn’t post on Monday. It was a Bad Day. I’ve been having a lot of those lately, but Monday was particularly Bad and I honestly just couldn’t get my head around anything well enough to blog. So, sorry about that.

Seriously, is this month over yet? It’s been AWFUL. One of the worst months I’ve ever had; I feel bruised all over from the beating it’s given me. Part of it might be the Mercury retrograde; part of it might just be that it’s January and the weather is a neverending stream of miserable (and has been for two years.) Whatever it is, I just want to go crawl under the covers and hide.

But of course I cannot. I have kids to raise and a novel, a short story, and a proposal to write. So, no hiding for me. And actually, although it’s been a slow month, the novel is coming along and so is the proposal (haven’t started the short yet) so I feel good about that; I’m 25k or so into the third Downside book, which I’m calling CITY OF GHOSTS for now (although I’m not sure how unique that is, so we’ll see if I get to keep it. It might end up being something like UNDERGROUND GHOSTS or maybe GHOSTS UNBOUND. Don’t know. Reminder to self: Google “City of ghosts” and see what you get.) Shame, really, as it’s the perfect title for what I think is going to be a kickass book; I’m actually extremely pleased with it so far, which is nice. I have a couple more clues to drop in this first third and my subplots are simmering along nicely.

See, here’s what I do. I separate the novel, in my head, into three parts; assuming a 90k book, which of course it won’t be exactly–the final version of UNHOLY GHOSTS is about 98k; UNHOLY MAGIC before edits is about 101k. So we’ll see. Anyway.

It occurred to me that this particular way of structuring a book might interest some of you, so here’s what I’m going to do. This Thursday and the next two I’m going to outline my basic method; feel free to ask questions at the end of each post and I’ll answer them the following Thursday, and we’ll do a little summary at the end.

So. Why would you want to do this? Why would you want to structure your books this way? What is the benefit of it?

I can only answer what the benefit is for me, and how it helps me organize my thoughts and work, and the ways in which I feel it’s improved my writing. Honestly I think most of you probably do this anyway, either consciously or unconsciously.

I’m not an outliner or planner. I start my books with a couple of characters and a problem which needs solving. Occasionally I’ll have a couple of ideas for Big Scenes in my head, but that’s really it. An idea excites me and I start writing, period. If you are an outliner or planner, this may not be necessary for you or, again, you probably already do this. And as with any other writing advice I give, this is my way and only mine; it’s not in any way a “You must do it this way” or “This is the best way”. But I mentioned my little structure elsewhere and a few people really liked it, so I thought why not share it a little more widely.

Also keep in mind that if your projected word counts are shorter, you will of course need shorter thirds, and especially remember this is not set in stone. Every book is different. Every book will have its own needs. You do not have to do this the way I do in order to write well, not at all, not remotely.

So. Here is what this does for me:

**It improves pacing. Separating the book into three 30k chunks, and knowing basically what purpose each chunk has to serve, gives me a structure on which to hang my wild imaginings (hee). Also, because of the way each “Act” is set up, it draws the reader into the story at a predictable pace and keeps the flow of information steady.

**It gives me a much stronger first draft. You pantsers know exactly what I’m talking about here. By the time our book is finished we have so many clues we need to go back and add, so many changes that need to be made, it’s like rewriting the book. But keeping the structure in mind makes it easier for me to fit in anything I might need; I know where the additional info needs to go or from where it needs to be removed.

**It means I’m not cramming to fit things in at the end, or left with too many loose ends.

**It eliminates the problem of the “sagging middle”. I believe the sagging middle is a pacing/information problem; sagging middles occur when too much information is given in the beginning of a story. By structuring my books this way I make sure there’s plenty of action throughout.

Assuming a book is 90k words, by the end of the first third–or 30k–I need to have all my basic information in place:

*Who the major players are. The bad guy needs to be introduced here, even if–as is usually the case–the reader is unaware that s/he is the bad guy. Hell, I’m not usually aware at this point who the bad guy is, especially given how much I enjoy my red herrings. So I usually set up two or three likely suspects here. I can always edit later to strengthen or remove the connections, once I figure out who the Baddie really is. We also need, of course, the main characters.

*The basic plot. What is the mystery or problem we’re solving? A lot of people will tell you this should be in the first chapter, and they’re not wrong. The sooner the better. But I’m also a fan of the Indiana Jones opening, whereby the first chapter is an intro to character and action that clears up events which occurred before the book’s opening. So I feel that as long as we introduce the issue in those first three chapters, we’re good.

*At least one subplot, hopefully two. They don’t have to be delved too deeply into in the first 10k or so, but by the end of 30k they should be (and we’re going to go into the structure of each act itself as well). But the basic stage needs to be set early, in this first act. For example, in PERSONAL DEMONS, Megan’s interview with Brian. We also met our Ultimate Baddie in those first chapters and added our little subplot with the vision of the Yezer’s house on the astral plane. And of course we met our romantic lead as well and (hopefully) had a nice little attraction/irritation vibe going fairly quickly, at least by the end of that 30k.

ALL THE BASIC CLUES NEED TO BE IN PLACE BY THE END OF THE FIRST ACT.

This doesn’t mean at all that by the end of the first act the mystery would be solvable. Oh, no. Not at all. But everything that comes later has to build on what’s already in those first 30k words. No deus ex machinas for us; we need to lay our groundwork.

For example, let’s say we’re writing a murder mystery. It can be set in any world, from “normal” to total fantasy.

For example, let’s say we’re writing a murder mystery. It can be set in any world, from “normal” to total fantasy.

So, in the first 10-15k words we want to introduce:

Our main character
Sidekicks, if any
The mystery itself
The bad guys
The world we’re in
Our basic clues

Is the murderer out for revenge? Then we might want to mention, in that first section, how many people loved (or hated) the victim. Out for money? Then we mention how rich (or poor) the victim was. We might introduce some physical clues here; the bloody knife or gun, say. Or there may be no obvious cause of death, and we introduce the cause at the very end of this act (we may even wait until the second act, but if that’s the case we should have a lot of other stuff going on.)

And in the second 15k or so we want to start exploring the word, pick up a few additional clues, and get to our first Major Complication (beyond the basic plot-laying one).

Every act ends with action and deepening conflict.

Well, technically, every sentence, ever scene, every page, needs to deepen conflict, of course. But for the sake of our structure we’re going to focus on Major Conflict.

To go back to our murder mystery, let’s say our MC is Jennifer, a private detective. The subject of one of jennifer’s investigations turns up dead, and she decides to work with the police–or behind their backs, perhaps–to solve the crime for whatever reason.

It’s a pretty basic plot and one I think we’re all fairly familiar with.

So our first act is the dead body, the introduction of Jennifer and her frenemies on the force, the world, whatever. And we pick up info here and there, and perhaps we learn that Jennifer is debating whether to put her grandmother in a home, and Jennifer’s just broken up with a lover, and Jennifer needs a new car, or whatever.

We’ll probably have some excitement in those chapters, and some uncoverings. But it’s right around the end of that first act that things go from bad to worse. Jennifer is attacked at her home. Or a witness is found dead. Or she’s kidnapped. Or the police tell her in a very shady way to get the heck out of their investigation.

Whatever the plot is, the end of the first act is where you generally put:

*A major action scene
*A major complication

Preferably at the same time. That first 30k has to encourage the reader to keep going; you want the end of that act to be an “Oh crap” moment, you know what I mean? I tend to think of those, and of those major action scenes, as “beats”, and each act should end with or right around a beat.

This isn’t to say at all that you shouldn’t be having those moments as you go, because of course you should. But the end of that first act is where everything rolls on its side; it’s where the MC finds him or herself in jeopardy somehow or where someone else is put in jeopardy (like, for example, the kidnapping of Catherine Martin in Thomas Harris’s Silence of the Lambs, to pull an example out of my–ahem–hat. The abduction, in fact, occurs on page 104 of my copy [I just went upstairs and grabbed it], which is 352 pages long, and is especially masterful there as just a few pages before Harris showed us the autopsy of a Buffalo Bill victim. Thus at the end of that book’s “first act” we have a graphic representation of how different this killer is; we have a significant clue in the throat larvae; and we have the abduction–so we know exactly what is waiting for that girl.)

The end of the first act is where the stakes jump higher. It’s not just an investigation anymore; this time it’s personal, if you know what I mean. Something Bad Has Happened. It’s going to happen again, unless we stop it. There’s often–again, as in Silence–a time factor introduced here too. Either way, this is where everything that’s come so far raises to a fever pitch, and the reader is (hopefully!) left breathlessly anticipating the second act, where everything gets deeper and more complicated.

Remember, none of this is set in stone. All stories are different. It’s just a guideline.

So. Any questions? What do you think; is this a structure you use? Do you keep these things in mind as you work?

So. So so so so so.

Finished (almost) line edits for Unholy Ghosts over the long weekend, which was awesome. I love edits; I think they’re so much fun. And it’s made me even more excited aboutthe book than I already was, and I have ohsomany plans for its release (date TBD.)

This sort of (but not really) ties into something else. Well, several things. Almost.

First, I was reading Empire magazine earlier. I hardly ever read Empire anymore. It used to be really good; lately there have been errors galore–shit people writing about movies really should know. Like the time they claimed it was the Jerry O’Connell character in Stand By Me who threw up blueberry pie all over the people at the pie-eating contest, when everybody knows it was Lardass who did the vomiting, in a cunning revenge plan. And you know, a movie magazine should not be making that kind of stupid mistake, especially not when at least two people would have had to read it. There was another one, too, but I don’t remember what it was. I think it might have had to do with The Breakfast Club. Anyway.

They did an article about this new movie with Johnny Depp and Christian Bale, which is going to be kind of like Heat but about John Dillinger. And they had some pictures of Depp and Bale and several other men, in costume. Which included hats.

Why, oh why, did men stop wearing hats? They look so good. So sharp and sexy; tough and sophisticated at the same time. But it’s nearly impossible to find a man in a hat these days–and by “hat” I mean a real hat, a fedora or a porkpie or a snap-brim, not some fucking baseball cap. Baseball caps can be just fine, say, on an actual baseball diamond, or when doing work outside in the sun; I will never forget watching the hubs and my roommate (who was my ex) putting up plywood over the windows (hurricane coming) at our house, both wearing baseball caps. It was quite pleasing to see, I admit. Especially since they were both sweating profusely (summer in South Florida, remember.) While I hovered around, bringing drinks and taking advantage of the fact that not only am I a girl, I’m a petite girl, and thus was of no use at all to two men, both of whom stood over six feet (and, uh, still do of course), when it came to drilling holes in the walls and doing heavy lifting and stuff like that.

Sorry, I digressed a little bit there, didn’t I? My point is, I wish men still wore real hats. One of my favorite bits in the book The Way You Wear Your Hat–which is an awesome book, btw–was the discussion of Sinatra’s many hats, and how he loved them.

So I want to do something for hats. I think when I have signings and stuff I’m going to bring along special gifts for men wearing hats. I seriously doubt I’ll get any takers, but it would be cool, wouldn’t it?

This weekend is the formal Xmas party for hubs’s work, so looking forward to that. Last year only one or two other women beside me actually dressed up; I have no idea why, considering that the men were all in tuxedos and it is a black-tie affair. I seriously considered dressing down this year, and possibly wearing something where people could actually see my legs. But my conscience refuses to allow it. If my husband is in a tuxedo it is inappropriate for me to be in a dress I might wear just as easily to the mall or something, and all the Cosmo articles in the world about making accessories “dress up” your look fail. Formal is formal. So I have a skirt (which requires a crinoline–luckily I own several) and a corset with a ruffle at the top, and I am ready to go. (Yes, I will post pics as soon as I have them.)

And there are two other cool bits of news!

First, Mark Henry–my fellow Reluctant Adult and great pal–has unveiled his new website!! MarkHenry.us is a treasure trove of fun stuff, music, little lists and funnies, info about Mrk and his (awesome) books–make sure you check it out, and be ready to spend some time! It’s as full of zombie goodness as an all-night Romero film festival.

AND. This Thursday, December 4th, I’m going to be spending the day over at Bitten By Books, chatting and answering questions and generally having fun. My event starts at 8 am Pacific and runs until the same time the following day (although as I have the party and have to leave my house Friday morning for it, I’ll have to come back to get to any comments I might have missed on Saturday). I’m even giving away a prize–a $25 Amazon gift card. They’re lovely over at BBB, and it should be a good time, so make sure you come by to hang out! (I will post this again on Thursday.)

And that’s pretty much it. Thanksgiving was okay but the turkey was dry; I tried something new and it was Not Good. But we watched our movies and hung out with the kiddies and generally enjoyed ourselves, so it doesn’t matter. And, as I admitted in the comments to my previous post (on blogger), I don’t really like turkey much anyway, so no big loss.

So, to sum up:

1. Empire is not as good as it used to be.
2. Men should wear hats.
3. I am dressing up properly on Friday.
4. Mark Henry’s new site rocks.
5. I am hanging at Bitten By Books on Thursday
6. Cooking the turkey upside down for the first hour or so is the best way to get a juicy turkey.

In a funny coincidence, on Monday or Tuesday evening I received an Author Questionnaire in my email, from the wonderful folks at Del Rey. And, well, wow.

They are THOROUGH. There’s a lot of stuff on there. While I don’t actually have answers for some of it–since nobody wants to give me awards and I never went to college, and am a big old loser who doesn’t belong to any professional associations or anything, which is actually quite depressing–it’s a clear sign that there is a nice, big publicity dept. at Del Rey, and they’re waiting to do whatever they can to promote me and my book.

You’re not going to get that from a self-publisher. Not at all. Not one bit. You’ll be on your own, floundering around in a very confusing world.

See, the thing is, the writing world is all about competition. Not directly–well, sort of, but I’m getting there in a minute–because all books are different. But yes, directly, because there has to be a reason for a reader to pick up your book instead of someone else’s.

A professionally published book has a lot of competition. And while a publisher can and will do whatever they can to sell your book (remember, we talked about that “Publishers don’t do any promo” myth a week or two ago), they can’t make anyone read it. All they can do is get it into stores, send it to review publications and websites, and set up whatever signings or tours or events or whatever they can. They can get the word out, and put the book in front of readers who may be interested in it. Promoting Unholy Ghosts to, for example, elderly ladies who spend their time playing tennis and gardening is probably not the best use of promotional dollars; those ladies are not likely to be interested in a book about drugs, ghosts, and ghettos.

And my publisher knows that, which is why they will probably not be advertising the book in the AARP newsletter (I mean no disrespect here, of course, to AARP members or kick-ass grandmas who love urban fantasy; I’m sure there are some out there. I’m just saying the market is very small.)

But for that market, my book is in direct competition with books those ladies would like better. Danielle Steele or Maeve Binchy novels, for example (and I loves me some Maeve, foreals). Books about how to perfect your backswing by repotting ivy. Women’s fiction with older female characters. Family sagas. Reams of non-fiction and memoirs. All of that stuff is likely to attract those grandmas before they start looking for books about junkie witches set in punk-rock ghettos. So if we decided to go for that audience, we’d have a hard slog convincing them to give me a go, with all that other stuff out there attracting their attention.

Worse than that, all the other stuff out there is right under their noses, at the bookstore or the grocery store or Wal-Mart or Sam’s Club or wherever they buy their books. In bookstores I’m on an equal footing with them, because my book is there too. But if they buy their books exclusively at Publix? There’s a good chance I won’t be there.

And therein lies the main problem with self-publishing fiction. You cannot get into bookstores. When the rep from my publisher and/or the rep from the distributer talks to the bookstore, they talk about my book, because that’s what they’re paid to do. When you’re self-published, you’re not even going to get a meeting. You might–might–be able to get into your local bookstore, if you talk to the manager. But nationwide? Forget it. There’s a very, very slim chance it will happen, but it probably won’t.

Why?

Because readers aren’t stupid.

This is not a reflection on you or your ability, it really isn’t. You may be a wonderful writer who simply has no interest in “going corporate”. As I said on onday, it’s a feeling I sympathize with and understand.

But readers don’t. Readers, real readers, know about books. They know what good writing is. They know who their favorite authors are, and they can probably name at least two or three of the big publishers, if not more. They know when they’re looking at a book not published with one of those houses. They know, when they open the book, if it’s badly written. Quite frankly, if they don’t know that? They’re probably not big readers to begin with, and so are even less likely to be looking for something new to read, and grabbing your book or ordering it online. (I see countless self-published or vanity-published writers out there who admit they don’t read and/or don’t like to read; yet they expect people to buy and read their books. Why? I don’t like playing video games, so I wouldn’t expect anyone to enjoy playing a game I came up with. If I don’t like to do it, why do I think other people would waste their time with me?)

I know you’re thinking, “But they don’t have to be real readers. I want the people who only buy a couple of books a year! That’s all I need.” To which I say, with some sadness, “Good luck.” Because those people? Are even less likely to be trolling the internet looking for new novels. They’re less likely to buy a novel by someone whose name they don’t recognize. We’re talking about people who buy ten copies of the latest NY bestseller to give as Christmas gifts, and never walk into a bookstore the rest of the year.

Nor do most review sites want to review self-published books, for the very reason of their not having been through a “vetting” process. Good as yours might be, you have to bear the weight of all those terrible ones out there; yours will be lumped in with them. Not to mention that, while we do have issues on occasion with professionally-published writers who throw internet tantrums over poor or lukewarm or simply not stellar reviews, the incidence appeares to be much higher with self-published books; these are people who don’t understand that reviews are written for readers, not as cheap or free promo for authors.

The simple fact is, in self-publishing fiction you are competing against every other novel out there. Novels published by companies the public trusts. Novels in bookstores. Novels with reviews in magazines and on websites. Novels in other stores. Novels their friends and family are talking about. Novels that people have turned into TV shows or films. It’s a tough world even for writers published by the major houses; imagine if you didn’t have any of that backing at all.

As a self publisher you’re not just a writer. You have dozens of jobs, including sales. As a professionally-published writer, you have one. Writing. Yes, it takes a lot of hard work and time to get there. But it’s so worth it. And really, if you’re self-publishing because you don’t want to do the work and/or the wait to get a NY contract, do you really think you’ll have the time, patience, and persistence you need to do all those extra jobs too?

Anyway. In other news. As I mentioned early at the League, I have started a new Yahoo group. My old group was shamefully dead; I never did much with it at all. It was also a December group, whereas the new one is for Stacia’s UF. So. Head on over to the new Stacia Kane Newsgroup and sign up. I really am going to do stuff with it, I promise. Excerpts, teasers, actual news–I even plan to do a semi-quarterly newsletter–all those good things. So I hope to see you there. Especially as there should be some interesting news soon, and it will go there first.