Storytellersunplugged

George Guthridge

Synopsis of July’s discussion: I have developed a step-by-step method for teaching how to write fiction. The process has enabled students – including elementary, junior-high, and high-school students, plus adults who never had published and who often had never even written a story before – to win state, national, and international fiction competitions and to publish in major magazines and anthologies.

And just so you will know that I practice what I preach: I did not use the process when I began writing. It took three years before the first SF/F/H story I ever wrote eventually sold. I developed this system, and sold my second story to ANALOG, my third to F&SF, my fifth to GALILEO, my tenth to ASIMOV’S. Nearly every time I have used the system I have sold the result to a national market; when I haven’t, then, generally – I haven’t.

The steps so far:

A. Choose a magazine such as NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC that has lots of interesting nonfiction tidbits – what I like to call “cocktail party nonfiction facts.” For example, during the witchcraft craze there were villages in Germany in which every female over age 12 was burned at the stake. Another tidbit: Henry VIII died of malnutrition. (And for the record: Apparently, his doctors advised Henry not to eat anything from the ground, that being an unsavory act for a king. Despite being grossly overweight in later life, he starved to death from lack of certain trace minerals.)

The “nonfiction tidbit” must have nothing to do with a story. I tell my students that as a rule of thumb it should be something on which you could write a very short term paper. For example, wearing neck rings (such as many women do in certain tribes in northwest Thailand) does not stretch the neck. Rather, it suppresses the clavicle. Could you write a paper about that – with no fiction? Then it’s a possible tidbit.

B. After you have 20 to 30 nonfiction tidbits, label each “head” or “heart.” A “head” appeals to us intellectually; a “heart,” emotionally. Henry VIII is the former; the witch-burning tidbit is the latter, since it’s so horrific. The distinction between head and heart may seem subjective, but generally it’s obvious.

Okay, onward:

C. Prioritize the “heart” ideas for dramatic potential. Do not duplicate numbers. If, say, you have ten ideas, then you will have 1 through 10, with 10 being the “most dramatic.” It is usually easiest if you work from opposite ends of the spectrum: decide on “10,” then on “1,” and so on. That is because the ones in the middle are the most similar and therefore the hardest to prioritize. After you finish, multiple each number by 3; doing so will give “dramatic potential” extra weight. Enter the result next to the tidbit.

Important note: Be careful to distinguish “dramatic potential” from “traumatic potential.” Events such as car wrecks are traumatic and, though also dramatic, usually are difficult to write about well in a short story. Avoid confusing the two.

D. Research a magazine you would like to write for. Hopefully, this is something that you do on an ongoing basis – at least, if you hope to sell regularly. Get to know the editor’s likes and dislikes and, generally, the types of stories that the magazine publishes. Then prioritize the list according to how likely, in your opinion, a potential story fits the magazine. Repeat Step C, except this time multiply by 2. Enter the result next to the first list.

E. Now prioritize the list according to your own likes regarding the tidbit in potential stories that may spin off from it. Repeat Step C but do not multiply.

F. Add up Steps C through E for each tidbit. You now have the nonfiction background “winner” of your next story. The sum reflects three essential elements in good writing: drama, marketability, and personal taste. The weights help deflect the potential of your writing an excellent story that has little emotional appeal or that may not fit existing markets.

G. Research the winning tidbit so you have a much fuller understanding of it and of its potential. Do not be afraid to discard it if you find the tidbit to be a dead-end. If so, go to your next tidbit.

H. Brainstorm about 50 characters who may have an emotional problem with the tidbit. Do not summarize. For example, with the tidbit about the witch burnings, do not write down, “A village girl whose mother was burned,” but rather, “a 12-year-old girl whose mother was burned and who knows her mother was a witch,” “a 12-year-old girl whose mother, a witch, was burned and who practices witchcraft herself,” “a 12-year-old girl whose mother, a witch, was burned and who dislikes witchcraft but who has begun practicing it out of anger,” “a 12-year-old boy who does not believe that his mother confessed to witchcraft,” “a 12-year-old boy who disbelieves his mother’s witchcraft confession despite her having assured him that she was a witch,” and so on. Do all your work on paper rather than just in your mind. Working on paper will help you practice translating mental idea into print.

I. Repeat Step C, but with the list of characters. Base you prioritization on whether the character is likely to be “new” to the intended audience.

J. Repeat Step C a second time. This time base your prioritization on whether readers are likely to empathize with the character.

K. Make a list of your fears and angers. Do not summarize. Instead of “anthropologists,” for instance, you might write, “those anthropologists who treat people as subjects rather than as individuals.”

L. Keeping your fears and angers in mind, repeat step E, except multiple by 2.

M. Add up steps I, J, and K. Do not add them to your earlier sums; doing so will skew the results. Your second sum will help you determine the basis of a character-driven story, with a fresh protagonist with whom readers can identify or at least sympathize.

**Last month I indicated that the column was “Part 1 of 2 Parts.” Okay, I lied. I write fiction. Next month: Determining the Plot.