Overcoming Blinking Cursor Syndrome

By Lois Winston

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I’ve heard some people state that there’s no such thing as writer’s block, that it’s all in your head, and you just need to snap out of it. Place your butt in your chair, your fingers on the keyboard, and just start typing!

I beg to differ. If something is keeping the words from flowing, it doesn’t matter if that something is physical, emotional, or mental. It exists. Anyone who claims otherwise has either been lucky enough not to experience writer’s block yet or is lying—to herself and/or to others. When life happens, it often impedes the muse, and every author at some point will find herself staring at a blinking cursor.

However, there are ways to overcome Blinking Cursor Syndrome, and they don’t involve purchasing additional software or downloading another social media app. My writing mantra has always been “Truth is Stranger than Fiction.” Many plots and characters in my books have been influenced by what’s going on in the world and how those events impact ordinary people.

The next time you find yourself suffering from Blinking Cursor Syndrome, try one or more of these tips:

Watch and read the news.

Too many people I know don’t regularly read, watch, or listen to the news. Big mistake, especially for writers. On any given night, a half-hour of world or local news will provide massive fodder for plots and characters.

From the time I began writing thirty years ago, I’ve kept a binder of interesting articles I’ve come across, clipping them from newspapers and news magazines or downloading them from the internet. Whenever I’m stuck for an idea, I pull out that binder and read through some of the articles in search of a nugget of inspiration. Even though I write mysteries, not all these articles are about criminal activity. My binder includes human interest stories, editorials, letters to Dear Abby, and even ads for odd mail-order products. Something will inevitably get my creative juices flowing.

Employ the fine art of eavesdropping.

I’m also a diehard eavesdropper. Instead of burying my nose in my phone, whether I’m standing on a supermarket line, in the theater awaiting the start of a movie, in a doctor’s waiting room, or even in a stall in the ladies’ room, I’m listen to conversations going on around me, especially phone conversations, which amazingly, are often on speaker in very public places. If I hear anything interesting (and I usually do), I’ll jot down some notes when I get into my car.

Be observant.

Stick your phone in your pocket and focus on the people you encounter as you go about your day. What are they doing? How do they react to and interact with others? Are they unique in the way they dress or look? Do they have any quirks? You won’t always come across someone worth remembering, but often, you will. Again, make notes for future reference.

In A Stitch to Die For, the fifth book in my Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery Series, a murder occurs in the home across the street from Anastasia. Over the course of the series, the house is demolished and a McMansion built in its place. When I was mulling over ideas for the plot of Seams Like the Perfect Crime, the recently released fourteenth book in the series, I knew it was time for new neighbors to move into the McMansion. But who should they be?

I’ve had some very strange neighbors throughout my life, but the strangest were a couple who lived across the street from us twenty-five years ago. However, even though truth is often stranger than fiction, and my humorous cozy mystery series is populated with quite a few quirky characters, including my sleuth’s communist mother-in-law and a Shakespeare-quoting parrot, I wondered if readers would buy into a fictional version of my former neighbors. 

Barefoot and shirtless, the husband would spend hours mowing his dirt-packed, weed-infested front lawn. Except for rain or snow, every day throughout the year, he’d run the mower back and forth across the same postage stamp-sized patch until the mower ran out of gas. He’d then sit on the top step of his porch and guzzle beer until he either passed out or fell asleep, lying on his back with his massive beer belly protruding skyward.

His wife was odd in her own way. One day, I witnessed a sidewalk brawl between her and a woman she accused of having an affair with her weed-mowing, beer-guzzling husband.

To get a feel for how readers would react to characters based on this couple, I told my newsletter subscribers about them and asked if I should use them as inspiration for characters in my next book. The overwhelming consensus of those who responded was to go for it. I did, and I’m thrilled to report that so far, reviews are quite positive.

Along with the above three tips I’ve used to help me deal with Blinking Cursor Syndrome, here are a few others I find helpful:

Join a critique group or find a critique partner.

It always helps to have another writer or writers with whom to brainstorm and bounce around ideas. Let’s face it, sometimes we’re just too invested in our work to be objective. A good critique partner will bring a fresh set of eyes to your work and help you find a way out of that corner you’ve written yourself into.

Clear your overactive imagination. 

Sometimes our brains are so full of fragments of ideas that we find it difficult to narrow down the possibilities. If we choose A, will we regret not choosing B? What about C? Or D? When that happens, our imagination can work against us, paralyzing us with the fear of making the wrong choice. Try meditating. Or take a walk in the woods. Or a long, hot shower or bath. Wake up half an hour early to focus on one character or one plot point, ignoring everything else. Your brain is like your desk. If it’s too cluttered, you’ll never find what you need.

Give yourself permission not to write.

Some authors feel that the moment they finish a book, they need to start the next one. However, humans aren’t perpetual motion machines. If we want to nurture our creativity, we need to care for our bodies and minds, allowing them to rejuvenate periodically. Too often, we sabotage ourselves by believing we can never stop working. This is counterproductive, inevitably stifling our creativity.

When you begin to feel yourself succumbing to this way of thinking, walk away from the keyboard and screen. Take the day off. Or several days. Read a book for pleasure. Spend time on a hobby you’ve ignored for too long. Work in your garden. Do some volunteer work. Go shopping or out to lunch with friends. Take a short vacation or a staycation. Most importantly, step out of your writer’s cave. Give your brain and body a much-needed break. That blinking cursor is telling you that you need one.

Learn to say no.

Forgive me if this comes across as sounding sexist, but in my experience, this is a problem that affects women more than men. We have a hard time saying no, no matter what’s asked of us or by whom. Is it insecurity? A need to please? Or because we’ve been conditioned to believe we’re capable of accomplishing anything? After all, I am woman. Hear me roar! No matter the reason, from my own experiences and those of many of my friends, this inability to say no results in juggling too much, which creates an overabundance of stress and leaves less time for writing. Then, when we do find time to write, we pressure ourselves to get that self-imposed daily word count down, which creates even more stress. And thanks to all that stress, the words refuse to come.

The solution is as simple as not being so accommodating. Most people will always zero in on the one person they know they can wheedle, cajole, sweet-talk, or arm-twist into heading this committee or taking on that project, especially since most of these people believe, as writers, we don’t have “real” jobs (Which is a topic for another article). Resolve to grow a backbone, put your foot down, and say no now and then. You’ll find that when you free up writing time, your cursor will no longer blink you into a hypnotic trance.

Set a challenge for yourself.

Step away from trying to figure out whatever plot or character issue is causing Blinking Cursor Syndrome. Instead, find a recent news or human-interest story. Then, open a fresh document on your laptop or grab a pad and pen. 

After reading the article, allow yourself three to five minutes to put a “what if” spin to the article by answering each of the following questions:

1. Who is the protagonist?

2. Who is the antagonist?

3. Who are the secondary characters?

4. Where does the story take place?

5. What are the characters’ goals?

6. What are the characters’ motivations?

7. What are the characters’ conflicts?

8.What’s the basic plot?

9. What are the three major turning points of the plot?

10. What’s the black moment?

11. What’s the resolution?

When you’ve finished, study your answers. Chances are, your brain has subconsciously focused on the problem you put aside, and somewhere within the answers to those questions, is the solution to your blinking cursor. If not, you’ve got a head start on a new book. And that’s never a bad thing!

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USA Today and Amazon bestselling and award-winning author Lois Winston writes mystery, romance, romantic suspense, chick lit, women’s fiction, children’s chapter books, and nonfiction. Kirkus Reviews dubbed her critically acclaimed Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery series, “North Jersey’s more mature answer to Stephanie Plum.” In addition, Lois is a former literary agent and an award-winning craft and needlework designer who often draws much of her source material for both her characters and plots from her experiences in the crafts industry. A Crafty Collage of Crime, the twelfth book in her series, was the recipient of the 2024 Killer Nashville Silver Falchion Award for Best Comedy. Learn more about Lois and her books at www.loiswinston.com. Sign up for her newsletter to receive an Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mini-Mystery.

The Myth of the Untraceable Poison

By DP Lyle

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One of the most common questions I get from writers is: Is there a poison that can’t be found in a corpse? The answer is No. And Yes.

Much depends on the state of the corpse when it is found. If severely decayed or completely skeletonized, the ME and the forensic toxicologist have their hands tied. Mostly. There are some toxins, such as the heavy metals (Mercury, Lead, and Arsenic are common ones), that can be found in bones and hair. But most toxins can’t be found in corpses that are severely decayed or simply bones.

In a more or less intact body, your villain can still get away with the murder by poison. That is, until your clever sleuth figures out that something is amiss and solves the crime.

The first thing your murderer must consider is how to make the poisoning look like something else. An example would be an elderly person with heart and lung disease who dies in his sleep. In this case, the person's private physician would sign the death certificate as a natural cardiac death and, almost always, the ME will accept it. Why? Because there is an old adage in medicine that says: Common things occur commonly. Most people who die in this situation do indeed die from natural causes, so searching for something more sinister would be neither logical nor practical. If the ME accepted the private physician’s cause of death, no autopsy would be done, and no toxicological examinations would be undertaken. An overdose of Morphine or digitalis or arsenic or anything else would go undetected. 

Unless someone asked questions. Maybe a high-dollar inheritance or insurance policy is in play. If an inheritance, one family member could suspect another and ask questions. In the case of a large insurance policy, the insurance company would look under every stone before paying off the policy. Or your sleuth could have some reason to suspect that things are not as they seem. In any of these situations, the ME might be moved to open a file and investigate. 

But if your killer is clever, he might be able to keep the ME completely out of the picture or at least give him an easy answer for the cause of death. If no murder is suspected, he'll take the path of least resistance, which is also the cheapest route. Remember, he must live with and justify his budget annually. If he is wasteful, he'll be looking for a job. So, give him a cheap and easy out. Your sleuth will then have to battle the ME to get the case re-opened.

The second thing a clever poisoner can do is to use a poison that is not readily detectable and will slip through most drug screens. Toxicology testing follows a two-tiered approach. Screening Tests, which are easier, faster, and cheaper, are used to identify common classes of drugs such as narcotics or amphetamines. This only tells the ME and toxicologist that some type of narcotic or amphetamine is present, but not which one. Determining which one requires more sophisticated, time-consuming, and expensive Confirmatory Testing. And if the screening tests are normal, no further testing is warranted and the ME would not spend the time and money to go further down that road. 

Drug screens typically test for alcohol, narcotics, sedatives, marijuana, cocaine, amphetamines, and aspirin. Some screen for a few other classes. Once a member of a class is identified, then confirmatory testing will determine exactly which member of the class is present and in what amount. For example, if narcotic is found in the screen, further testing might show that the actual narcotic present is morphine. Or an amphetamine might be further analyzed, and this might show that methamphetamine is the culprit. 

Your poisoner could use a poison that would not be found in the typical screen. Things such as arsenic, selenium, and most plants (oleander, deadly nightshade, etc.) do not show up on the typical tox screen, and when the screen comes back negative, the ME might not go further. Why would he spend the time and money without a good reason? This is where your sleuth steps in to shake things up.

But, if a poison is suspected and if the funds and interest to pursue it are present, anything can be found in an intact corpse. Using gas chromatography in conjunction with either mass spectrometry (GS/MS) or infrared spectroscopy (GC/IR) will give a chemical fingerprint for any molecule. And since each molecule has its own structure and thus its own fingerprint, every compound can be distinguished from every other one.

To write a good mystery that will keep the reader guessing to the end, you must plot the nearly perfect murder. This way when your sleuth cracks the case, he or she will be a true hero. If poisoning is your killer’s chosen weapon, then use the above principles to make your plot as clever and convoluted as possible. Have your killer mask the death as natural or use some poison that is not readily detectable in screening tests and then your sleuth must be very clever to solve the case.

There are several sources for you to search out poisons and to discover how they act and how they are identified. Google, of course, and try plugging into your state poison control center. My books, Forensic For Dummies, Murder and Mayhem, and Forensics and Fiction cover a number of poisons. I also recommend Howdunnit: Book of Poisons by Serita Stevens and Anne Bannon from Writers’ Digest Books. It is a great resource for poisons of all types.

What if?: A Most Important Question

By DP Lyle 

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Every author has been asked: Where do you get your ideas? The short answer is: Everywhere. Something you see or read germinates an idea, and a story unfolds. Sometimes the story comes together quickly, but most often weeks of building mental scenes and snippets of dialog, setting, and action must be waded through before pen meets paper. 

An overheard conversation might be the spark. Or a couple talking/arguing/laughing at a nearby restaurant table. Maybe an odd character strolling down the street. Perhaps an idea simply pops into your head from wherever those thoughts arise. 

Okay, so you have an idea. Now what? An idea isn’t a story. Ideas are a dime a dozen. They are literally everywhere. The key is to find an idea that can stand up through a 100,000-word manuscript. No small trick.

To do this, the original idea must be refined and fleshed out. An idea can become a scene, but to be a full-length novel it must evolve and expand. It must become a premise, or what many call “The Central Story Question.” It’s what the story is really about.

To become a premise, the original idea must ultimately lead to the question: What if? 

What if this happened? What if that person did this? What if that dude in the shabby clothes was actually a rogue undercover agent with a deadly agenda? What if the restaurant couple was planning a murder? What if that briefcase contained state secrets? Or an explosive device? Or a deadly virus?

From those two words--What if?--stories arise.

The power of your story’s What If? can’t be overestimated. If it is done correctly and not lost in the writing. A good What if? states the main character, the situation, the stakes, and, most importantly, the Central Story Question. 

It is the answering of this question that is the story.

Okay, so our restaurant couple is planning a murder. Who, what, when, where, and, most importantly, why? It’s always the why that makes a great story. Is it to get out of a messy marriage and save all that alimony money, or to cash in that million-dollar insurance policy, or to cover an embezzlement from a company they work for, or to seek revenge for some act? Even though the original idea was a couple planning a murder, each of these scenarios generates a different story. Each will lead your sleuth, who must solve the murder, into a different world.

What if a young couple witnesses a murder and in so doing put themselves in the cross hairs of a transnational criminal organization?

This is the What If? for my latest Cain/Harper thriller, TUNICA. 

The What If? should be stated in about 25 words or less. Because the What If? is brief, it’s often called the elevator pitch or the agent pitch. It communicates your story in the most efficient terms. We’ve all heard writers respond when asked what their story is about by saying things like, “Well, there’s this guy who lives on an island. And he hates the water. And a big shark is killing people and this is threatening to shut down the town’s beaches on a holiday weekend. And then there’s this other guy who is a shark expert and he has a really cool boat. Oh, I forgot, the first guy is the chief of police.” Yawn.

What if a hydrophobic, island-community police chief must go out on the water to kill a predatory shark to save the town’s summer economy and to prove his own self-worth?

What if an FBI trainee must exchange personal information with a sadistic serial killer in order to track another serial killer and save a Senator’s daughter?

What if the youngest son of a mafia family takes revenge on the men who shot his father and becomes the new godfather, losing his own soul in the process?

These are of course Jaws, Silence of the Lambs, and The Godfather, respectively. See how these What If?s reveal the protagonist and cleanly state the story premise? Read these books or watch the movies and you will see that each scene moves toward answering the story’s What If? Each of your scenes should, too. If not, consider cutting, or at least reworking, those that don’t.

Many authors consume weeks creating the What If? for their story. Constantly refining it, making it more on point. You should, too. It’s that important. It concisely states the Central Story Question.

Here’s a tip: When your What If? is completed to your satisfaction, print it out and tape it to your computer or the front of your writing pad so you will see it every time you sit down to write. Before writing each scene, read your What If? and ask yourself, “Does this scene help answer the Central Story Question?” If you do this, you will never lose sight of what your story is about. Particularly in the dreaded middle, where so many stories get lost in the jumble of character and backstory and cool dialog all the other stuff that goes into a manuscript. The What If? keeps you focused and on track.

The Writer’s Playbook: Interview Your Characters

By Steven Harms

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To start, calculators down.

Now answer the following:
What is three times three?
Ten times seven?
Nine times two?
And, to finish this little exercise, what is eighty-five times forty-six? Take your time.

Hopefully you nailed the final answer. You may be asking what this has to do with being an author? Read on.

In the spring of 1985, I was two years into my first job at the Detroit Pistons. Around that same time, in my hometown of Milwaukee, Wisconsin something occurred that got my attention. The Milwaukee Bucks of the NBA had recently been purchased by Herb Kohl – I’ll get to him in a moment – and I felt the opportunity to return home was worth an inquiry. New ownership of a pro team generally comes with a slate of changes on the business side to align with a new owner’s vision and desire for how they want the place to operate. I wasn’t wrong. I sent a letter of inquiry to the president of business operations of the Milwaukee Bucks, not expecting a reply.

Two weeks later I received a call from John Steinmiller, introducing himself and asking that I come to Milwaukee for an interview. The role was a new position, and the person they were seeking would be responsible for building the sales team and crafting the external sales strategy.

I was flown in the following week and met with John. Our discussion went well, and I was excited to put it mildly. The opportunity would advance my career to the next level. As John wrapped our interview, he informed me that the new owner, Herb Kohl, would also like to meet with me one-on-one.

Who’s Herb Kohl? Perhaps you’ve shopped at Kohl’s. That was Herb’s family business, begun by his father in 1924. Kohl’s began as a grocery chain in the Milwaukee area before adding department stores beginning in 1962, eventually selling it all off in 1979. Herb Kohl purchased the Bucks in 1985 to prevent the team from exiting Milwaukee, in line with his community mindedness, which eventually led to him becoming a U.S. Senator, representing Wisconsin for twenty-four years. That’s the man I now sat across from in his spacious office at a top floor of Milwaukee’s tallest building.

The interview with him was straightforward – my background, schooling, sales experience with the Detroit Pistons, family, goals, and a few other traditional interview topics. Herb was a soft-spoken person, palpably gracious, and he made me comfortable as we chatted. Somewhere amid that interview, completely out of the blue, he asked me that final math question at the top of this article. Stone cold. No pivot. I can’t recall the exact digits, but you get the idea. To this day, I remember Herb said, “Take your time.” It was a jolt. I recall thinking that I was about to blow the interview and wouldn’t get the job. But I figured out quickly how to process the problem and answered it correctly. He then tossed me two more of similar nature. I passed all three. In the end, I landed the job.

My length of service with the Bucks lasted four years before I moved to New York City for my next opportunity. In hindsight, I wish I had taken a moment during my time with the Bucks to ask Herb why he threw those math problems at me. I’m convinced he did so to see how I process information and how I manage myself in a stressful situation. I just never asked. I think I know the answer, at least in part, which aligns with the task we have in creating our characters and developing them.  

Every good author understands that characters tell the author what to write, not the other way around. We’re responsible for bringing the people in our stories to life, intently listening to each, being thoughtful of their backstory, and abiding by who they are as a character. Their dialogue and actions drive the plot. How those are handled by an author is critical to maintaining a compelling, authentic story.

But what happens when a scene or chapter or subplot just won’t materialize, better known as writer’s block? All authors experience that moment, some less than others, but it’s unavoidable. It will happen, probably multiple times in the process of producing a manuscript. Successfully dealing with the problem opens the door to kickstart the interrupted creative process. There are many methods, but taking a cue from Herb Kohl, consider copying his technique.

Have a conversation with the characters on what they’re thinking. Throw them a wildly incongruent question of fact or importance that is unconnected to the story and see how they respond. If their answer misses the mark, that’s alright. Now you know. If they arrive at a plausible, reasonable answer, now you know that as well. If they hem and haw and sweat, tell them to take their time and only move on after they’ve answered. That’s also informative. You now perceive facets of them you hadn’t known, which may be a key ingredient in unblocking yourself and taking your story to a higher level.

Next time you’re at a Kohl’s, or drive by one, or see one of their advertisements, think back to this article and consider the “Kohl method” of interviewing a character(s) to handle current or future writing blocks. He or she may be able to figure out the “math question” you pose. Or maybe not. Either way their strengths, weaknesses, make-up, countenance, and other previously unrevealed attributes will come to the fore.

Just one rule, though. No calculators allowed.

You Want Me to Spend Time with You?

By Paula Messina

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We all have different measures for what keep us reading. One of mine is characters I’m willing to live with all the way to the end. The gift of a mystery got me thinking about this. Why do some characters meet my requirement and others fail?

The novel looked promising. The author had won a prestigious award. The main character is an archaeologist. I enjoy books that involve an expertise, especially one I’m not schooled in. Alas, my interest dwindled quickly.

The story is told through the main character’s viewpoint. She is miserable and self-loathing because of her weight. This was not a good sign, but I read on. Soon enough a detective needs her help on a murder case. He comes not with hat in hand. Rather, he’s downright nasty. Not only is the detective as off-putting as the main character, his approach is irrational. The characters have no history together. His unprofessional behavior is inexplicable, even cause for termination. Didn’t he learn at his mother’s knee you catch more flies with honey than vinegar?

Actually, he was terminated. I stopped reading the book.

For me to sustain interest, I don’t demand that the characters be Mother Teresa incarnate or a Nobel Peace Prize winner or even a Boy Scout rescuing abandoned dogs. It’s those one-note grumpy characters I can live without. 

I’m not alone in this. After I closed that book, I read the online reviews. I have plenty of company. The negative reviews essentially said the same thing: I don’t want to waste my time on these characters.

It’s next to impossible to imagine anyone more dislikable than Ebenezer Scrooge. Dickens is emphatic that absolutely everyone avoids him. “Even the blind men’s dogs appeared to know him; and, when they saw him coming on, would tug their owners into doorways and up courts; and then would wag their tails as though they said, ‘No eye at all is better than an evil eye, dark master!’”

And yet Scrooge is one of the most enduring and, dare I say, beloved characters in English literature. Ebenezer is proof that flaws are fine. It’s how flaws are presented that makes all the difference. Characters need not be perfect. Indeed, they shouldn’t be.

Dickens pulls the reader into A Christmas Carol by raising questions. Who is Marley and why should we care that he died? Why was Scrooge “his sole executor, his sole administrator, his sole assign, his sole residuary legatee, his sole friend, and sole mourner.”?

Dickens quickly establishes Scrooge’s wretched personality. No reader would invite Ebenezer over to watch the Super Bowl, at least not until the three Ghosts of Christmas get through with him. Dicken’s delicious descriptions keep us curious about how one being could be so miserable and disliked, but delicious descriptions only satisfy for so long. Dickens could have easily pushed Scrooge into an unbearable, unreadable character.

Yet Ebenezer Scrooge endures. Why?

The answer is simple. Scrooge doesn’t tell the story. An intimate, chatty, gossipy narrator does. If Scrooge told A Christmas Carol, it is highly doubtful even the inestimable Dickens could keep readers turning the pages for one hundred eighty years.

Arthur Conan Doyle and Rex Stout used the same technique for the odd genius Sherlock Holmes and the often belligerent but brilliant Nero Wolfe. We see Holmes and Wolfe through the eyes of their friends, and because Watson and Goodwin find redeeming social value in Sherlock and Wolfe, the reader does as well.

It’s no accident that Dr. John Watson is a cheerful, friendly character, or that Archie Goodwin is only a few IQ points short of Wolfe’s genius. Archie is wittier than Wolfe, likes women, and is a great dancer. Our view of Sherlock and Nero is filtered through these immensely enjoyable narrators, and we’re willing to stick around until the end.

A narrator isn’t the only technique to make an unpleasant character palatable. We often describe our lives in absolute terms. I’ll never be anything than an utter failure. My husband never compliments me. My mother never has a kind word for anyone. There’s a name for this kind of thinking: cognitive distortion.

We humans are not a never-ending one note, miserable or ecstatic. Even in the worst of times, we laugh at a good joke, make goo-goo eyes at an infant, and enjoy the warm sun on our skin. It’s impossible to be miserable all the time, just as it’s impossible to be endlessly upbeat.

Humans experience ups and downs throughout a day, a year, a lifetime. Characters do as well. Good characters are complex. They enjoy life one minute and complain in the next. They lament about their weight, then promise to diet tomorrow.

In the mystery mentioned, a little levity, for example, would have made the character’s self-loathing tolerable. An explanation and an apology would have made the detective’s initial bad impression understandable and relatable. In other words, mitigating circumstances make an unpleasant character more lifelike, but even mitigating circumstances only carry a reader so far. 

Sherlock’s genius makes him impatient with lesser mortals. Wolfe has a dark past that is never explained. It possibly involves a bitter betrayal by a woman. Dickens shows us Scrooge’s descent into a spiritual wasteland through a series of flashbacks while also showing Scrooge’s journey to reclaim his soul. It is those flashbacks that make his redemption on Christmas Eve believable. His goodness was always there to be brought to life. We know in our hearts that Ebenezer Scrooge does become “as good a friend, as good a master, and as good a man, as the good old city knew, or any other good old city, town, or borough, in the good old world.”

It’s not flaws that are off-putting. A character without a flaw is malformed. It’s how those flaws and foibles are presented that makes the difference. A main character can be stubborn and uncooperative. Supporting characters can goad the protagonist into a better disposition. Archie Goodwin is a master at this. Introduce a humorless character to a cutup. Dr. Watson on the page isn’t the bumbling Nigel Bruce, but he does lighten Holmes’ intensity. A dour woman populating pages needs to meet a ray of sunshine. Conversely, that main character who insists on imitating Pollyanna is just waiting for someone to burst her bubble.

Contrasts work wonders. Characters bring out different aspects of the main character. Best-selling author Barbara A. Shapiro says different friends bring out different aspects of our personalities.

Think about it. You discuss politics and solve the world’s problems with one friend. You’re a veritable joke machine with another, and a third has you discussing how to grow mushrooms and make kimchi and sauerkraut. Scrooge interacts differently with Bob Cratchit than he does with his nephew Fred. Scrooge moves from disbelief, to insolence, fear, and finally to submission as he travels with each ghost.

This works both ways. No human is always bubbly and positive. Characters aren’t either. What my friend Marilyn says of life is also true of fiction. “If you don’t have a problem now, wait two weeks.”

In the novel I’m writing, Donatello, my main character, is essentially a good guy, but he vents his fury on his parish priest. The priest deserves the drubbing, but Donatello believes it’s a sin to scream at a priest. He screams anyway. Donatello would be a weak character if he ignored the priest’s nastiness.

Donatello’s anger serves another purpose. It displays Donatello’s determination to reclaim his life after an accident robs him of his dream to pitch pro ball. Donatello’s anger says he’s not giving up. No one’s pushing him around, not even his parish priest. This anger intensifies Donatello’s commitment to find his sister’s murderer.

When I pick up something to read, I want to be carried along in a story filled with characters I’d invite to share my life for a while. They can be a pompous Sherlock, a ton of immovable flesh a la Wolfe, or a Scrooge so nasty even dogs avoid him. But I only keep reading if those negative traits are balanced by positive ones. In short, for this reader, how a writer presents his characters is vitally important. 

As for the kvetchers, the malcontents, the one-note nasties, I’d rather not even open the book.

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Paula Messina lives near America’s first public beach. When she isn’t sloshing barefoot through the Atlantic, she’s writing short stories and essays. Her humorous caper, “Which Way New England?” appears in Wolfsbane, Best New England Crime Stories 2023. “Science for the Senses,” an essay, is in issue 7 of Indelible Literary and Arts Journal. You can listen to her reading works in the public domain at librivox.org.

When Secondary Characters Demand the Spotlight

By Martha Reed 

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When I’m introduced to a new series, it doesn’t matter if the storyline comes via a book, a movie, or TV, and I’m open to any setting. But if the crime fiction or mystery series is going to engage my active monkey brain and continue to hold my interest, it must offer a wide-ranging ensemble cast with plenty of individual and interesting character development. Cardboard cutouts and one-dimensional characters are not for me.

Developing a supporting ensemble cast is a creative balancing act because while it offers a fertile field of fresh and unforeseen possibilities, you don’t want to lose your protagonist in the crowd. You’ll need to invent just the right number of secondary characters to keep your story lively and fresh without confusing the reader.

And while individual crimes and misdemeanors and their solutions structure the plot, character development provides the necessary depth, conflict, drama, background color, and bodies for the suspect list.

The trick is that an inciting or trigger event not only impacts the protagonist and his/her world; collateral fallout cascades through the secondary characters as well, causing countless new conflicts and story sub-arcs. Say, for instance, your beat cop protagonist finally earns her detective’s badge, a cherished career goal. How does her left behind cop ex-partner feel about her promotion? Bruised feelings and damaged egos among secondary characters are 24K nuggets in any writer’s gold mine.

Of course, the protagonist and the antagonist should take centerstage since they’re the focus of the story, but what is an author supposed to do when a secondary character suddenly strides into the limelight demanding equal face time?

This has happened to me twice, and I’d like to share how you can use these events to strengthen your future stories.

In my Nantucket Mystery series, a secondary character CSI Specialist made an unexpectedly snarky remark standing beside a crime scene that was so wryly perfect with dry humor that I realized she was going to steal the focus from the corpse. As I continued drafting the chapter, I wanted to drop the existing narrative and follow her, and that is a fatal type of rabbit hole.

When you run into a strongly vocal secondary character who refuses to behave, don’t throw them out. Take that rampant character energy and move it into an entirely new story.

Use Shapeshifting as a Creative Writing Tool

To keep that CSI Specialist from derailing that established storyline, I softened her punchline and then moved the strength of it and her character into a primary character position using an entirely new setting and series. It worked. Love Power won a Killer Nashville 2021 Silver Falchion Best Attending Author Award as well as being a 2021 Silver Falchion Finalist in the Best Mystery category.

In another shapeshifting instance, a vibrant young UBER driving named Cleo got axed from one of my short stories simply because I needed to trim the word count to fit the submission requirement. After profusely apologizing to my fictional character, I pasted Cleo into a blank Word document and filed her for later use. She has been impatiently waiting for her turn on the boards and now, as I’m drafting my current WIP, I need a strong young new female primary lead. Viola! There she stood, waiting in the wings, already warmed up and ready to go, a gift.

How to develop a secondary character into a primary one

The best tool I’ve discovered is to write out the secondary character’s career and life goals. Every character, even secondary ones are the hero/heroines in their own lives. He/she will have their own aspirations, dreams, ambitions, and struggles, and this is important: their goals may not be in alignment with your protagonist’s main story but adding this level of depth is critical to character development.

For instance, when I life studied one of my secondary characters, a military veteran and career law enforcement officer, I learned that Ted expected to be given the Lieutenant’s position when it unexpectedly fell vacant. When he didn’t get it, Ted soured on the job, so I started sprinkling in quirky quips and sour asides into his normal day-to-day conversation. The bonus is in not explaining the new quips and asides; just as your other characters will start to wonder what’s gotten into Ted, so will your readers, and keeping readers guessing is one of our writerly jobs.

Primary and secondary characters break up over conflicts. Career goal differences or sudden political flare-ups can raise tension to a snapping point. Different responses to an accident or a crime scene can cause rifts in long-standing friendships. Use these events to add increased insight into a secondary character’s life or to the backstory, and it will pique your reader’s interest as well as signal that a shift in a secondary character may potentially move that character into a leading player position.

The payoff is that secondary character development leads to story growth which will hold the interest of your readers.

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Martha Reed is a multi-award-winning mystery and crime fiction author. Love Power, her new Crescent City NOLA Mystery featuring Gigi Pascoe, a transgender sleuth won a 2021 Killer Nashville Silver Falchion Best Attending Author Award as well as being a Silver Falchion Finalist in the Mystery category.

Her John and Sarah Jarad Nantucket Mystery series garnered an Independent Publisher (IPPY) Book Award for Mid-Atlantic Best Regional Fiction. Her short story, The Honor Thief was selected for the 2021 Bouchercon anthology, This Time for Sure, edited by Hank Phillippi Ryan

You’re invited to visit her website www.reedmenow.com for more detail.

The Importance of Strong Pacing and Dynamic Structure in Science Fiction

By Stu Jones and Gareth Worthington

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Pacing, style, and structure. Why does they even matter? I have worlds to build!

This mindset is the downfall of even some of the most accomplished science fiction writers. To a sci-fi author, world-building is often the driving force for the book in the first place. “I want to spend page after page describing, in vast detail, the intricacies of my new world.” After all, isn’t that the fun of being a writer? Creating every nuance and allowing readers to enter the world of our imagination? What could be better for a story than that?

Indeed, historically, this was the status quo. 

Once upon a time, taking our readers through endless reams of description was possible. Hell, it was standard practice in sci-fi and fantasy, as evidenced by many of the greats. From the late nineteenth to mid-twentieth century, a reader was more likely to shell out their hard-earned cash for an author’s latest work. If reading it didn’t conflict with listening to one’s favorite radio broadcast or later, catching one’s favorite television show at five p.m. on a Friday, then there wasn’t much else at home outside a game of cards or a roll in the hay, with which to conflict.

Not so today, at least for the most part.

While there are still readers who enjoy longer novels, with incredible depth of world-building, for the average reader—and therefore the majority of our audience—long side stories about how a certain kind of flora came to be grown on a terraformed planet just isn’t going to cut it. 

And why? 

Because, dear authors, we are competing for attention. In today’s world, a person’s phone is only an arm length away—if that. And if our story lags into page after page of lavish descriptors, our reader will yawn, set the book down, and start browsing cat videos. Or worse, reach for the TV remote to see what’s streaming. And there, in the world of television and cinema, lies our greatest ally and enemy. While we all yearn to have our book adapted for the big screen and enjoy watching the imagined worlds we read come to life, movies and television series mean that our audiences who also read no longer need us to describe things in ridiculous detail. The average reader now has so many visual frames of reference we, as the author, don’t need to work so hard to help them along.

Let’s try it.

Mars. One word. You are already conjuring an image of a red planet, dry and desolate without oceans. A rocky surface and a thin atmosphere. We did not need to tell you those things. One word was enough.

With this in mind, has the entertainment industry destroyed the beauty of science fiction writing? “What can we do against the tyranny of Facebook, Instagram, and three-hundred-million-dollar movies?” you cry.

The answer is two-fold.

Firstly, we can address structure and prose. We can describe where it is necessary, where the reader may not have encountered our particular nuance for a given fictional ecosystem. But where just a few words will suffice to give the reader that visual nudge, we can move on. We can drive the story forward. We are, of course, referring to pacing.

 So, what do we mean by pacing?

It means two things. Number one, always be moving the ball down the field. Something has to happen. And it needs to happen often from the work’s start all the way to the finish. Every chapter should have a purpose to move the story along, not just describe something we would like to tell the reader about our world. If we want to convey a detail, make that detail important to the narrative. Now don’t get us wrong and interpret what we’re saying as descriptors aren’t vitally important. Descriptive prose is the perfume that helps to draw the reader closer to your vision. But perfume alone the beauty does not make. In the end, it’s a delicate balancing act between enough description to draw the reader in, without detracting from where the story is going. It takes constant vigilance to ensure we, as authors, do not wax or wane too far one way or the other.

When we were writing It Takes Death To Reach A Star, we struggled with this. After all, we’d created this whole new world and there were so many elements to show and so many factions vying for a moment in the spotlight. Even though our entire story was set in a single city, we had created a universe with religions, cultural factions, and histories---not to mention the merging of real scientific theories and religious doctrine. At times we were totally overwhelmed with the scope of what we were trying to accomplish.

To our great relief, we feel we managed it with reviews applauding our world-building and comparing it to the likes of Philipp K. Dick. Yet the book is only eighty-four-thousand words. Quite average by any fiction standard. How did we achieve that?

Well, during the refining process, our amazing editor, Jason, came to us with a formula which we both now use in all our writing: The 25, 50, 75 rule. He said that at regular intervals, things should be happening. Little things. Everyday moments of story intrigue and character development. But interlaced between those moments, at major quarter intervals, something big should happen. Maybe it’s a major character reveal, a plot twist, or the development of an unforeseen love interest who promises to change the scope of the story, or a look into the villain’s plan to do something dastardly. But something important that is central to the story should happen. Then, between the little moments and the big moments, the reader is anchored to our story.

No more checking the smartphone or Netflix, because now our readers have to know what happens in our story. If we can achieve this, then it’s safe to go ahead and pop the champagne. When an author nails pace and structure and their story leaps to vivid life, everyone wins.

So, next time you’re outlining your book, think about the rule above. What are the big moments in the narrative? When you’re writing, try to include your descriptors as part of the story, the narrative. Let your characters experience the world and relay what you see in detail, but keep the experience moving. We don’t sit at our desks contemplating the shape of the keys at which we tap away. Instead, we press them and move our story along.

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A Dragon Award Nominee, Stu Jones is the author of multiple sci-fi/action/thriller novels, including the multi-award-winning It Takes Death To Reach A Star duology and Condition Black, written with co-author Gareth Worthington (Children of the Fifth Sun, A Time for Monsters).

Gareth Worthington is an authority in ancient history, has hand-tagged sharks in California, and trained in various martial arts, including Jeet Kune Do and Muay Thai at the EVOLVE MMA gym in Singapore and 2FIGHT in Switzerland. His work has won multiple awards, including Dragon Award Finalist and an IPPY award for Science Fiction.

Taking Inspiration Without Plagiarism

By Graham Smith

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One thing the vast majority of authors do is read. They read the classics, research tomes, novels from the best-seller lists, and ones from their own to-be-read piles. Authors choose every one of these reads for educational or entertainment value and hope they will be written in a style that engages their readers. It stands to reason that some of those words may try to subconsciously sneak into a manuscript. The author’s job is to spot when they do and either rewrite or remove them.

As a novelist, I take inspiration from a wide variety of sources, such as news stories, half-heard conversations, and because I’m a reader, I take inspiration from the novels I read. That inspiration could be from characters who are wonderfully entertaining, settings whose descriptions crackle with imagery, or a plot that’s both exciting and true to the characters.

What I never do is copy someone else’s idea, character, or phrasing. A few years ago, I set out to write a series set in the US. It was to feature a tough guy lead who was as likely to solve problems with his fists as his mind. I expect that you’re already thinking of such characters as Lee Child’s Jack Reacher, Matt Hilton’s Joe Hunter, Vince Flynn’s Mitch Rapp, and a whole host of others. That’s fine, there’s room for them all. In fact, I took the number of similar—but not the same—characters to be a good thing. It meant the sub-genre was popular enough to stand another.

When I came to create my character and story, I used my knowledge of the sub-genre to make sure I wasn’t re-writing someone else’s story or character. I was inspired by the aforementioned names, but as a fan of those authors, the last thing I wanted to do was rip them off or plagiarize them in any way.

Another instance of where I sought inspiration was the death of a character in a novel called Revenger by Tom Cain. This was the last book in the series and therefore I never got to find out the long-term impact of the character’s death. As a fan, this ate at me somewhat, and because I’d struck up a friendship with Tom, I asked for and received, permission to work a version of the character’s death into one of my character’s backstory, so I could as an author create my own version of how the character’s death affected their beloved.

Sometimes authors working in isolation from each other can come up with the same basic plot idea. This has happened to me, once directly and once indirectly. The direct version was uncovered from a conversation with a good writer friend. We’d chatted plot ideas, publishing gripes, and all the usual stuff us authors talk about when he mentioned that a mutual friend had told him about a novel he was planning. Because I’d already written at least half of a novel with a very similar plot, the mutual friend dropped his idea as he didn’t want to write something too similar to another novel that was likely to be published around the same time as his. The indirect version came from a brainstorming session with another writer friend and when he put an idea forward, it rang a bell with me. Ten seconds of searching online proved the plot idea had been used in a successful novel, and thus another idea was dropped.

The author Craig Russell is someone I count as a friend and a favored author. Such is his skill with language and narrative. I find myself learning about the craft of writing every time I read one of his novels. I have never hid the fact I consider his writing so good as to be educational, but there is no way I would ever ape his style, although I do consider him to be an inspiring influence.

The publishing industry is one that follows trends. Think back to Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci Code, and all the similar artefact hunting novels that sprung up around the time The Da Vinci Code had massive success. There was a boom in the sub-genre that lasted a couple of years until the rise of Scandi Crime and then came the psychological thrillers. The standouts in each of the trends were all original novels. They didn’t plagiarize any other piece of work, and while they were each unique, they all held the tropes a reader expected of their sub-genre.

In short, it’s okay to take inspiration from your peers, from whatever source you like. But don’t chase the latest trend, write a uniquely original novel of your own and set the next trend.

I know many authors who scour the news outlets hoping to get a usable idea. What you can’t do as an author is copy someone else’s work. Just like our school days, anyone caught copying the work of another will have consequences to face. Don’t do it. Be original, be unique, be inventive, and be prepared to ditch an idea you have because someone else has already done it.

Most of all, good luck with your writing.

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Graham Smith is a 50-year-old author who has published 18 books to date. He lives in Scotland and manages a busy hotel and wedding venue for his family.

Subplots Can Tighten Your Story’s Saggy Middle

By Martha Reed

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We’ve all experienced that feeling of keen anticipation and undiluted terror when starting a new story, staring at that initial blank page, and wondering how on earth we’re going to fill it.

We may start out with an amorphous idea of what our story might be about, select an intriguing cast of characters, and develop a plot outline before committing ourselves to the months or even the decades of willful intent and devoted effort it takes to write 85,000 words in the right order.

For me, beginnings are easy enough. In between drafting books, I keep an untidy stack of newspaper clippings and screen capture print outs bearing provocative headlines hoping to plant these magical little seeds in my subconscious and trigger an idea or two down the road. How will these suggestions connect in my new stories? I have no idea, but I do know that they will. It’s part of that writerly sorcery, the creative fiction necromancy I’ve learned to enjoy—and to rely upon—because it’s that wizardry that keeps both me as the writer and my readers entertained.

Endings aren’t difficult because it’s our job as writers to wrap up loose threads. If our characters have followed their true hearts, their heads, and the story’s logic trail, then it should lead them and us to an ending that at least makes sense. It’s our writerly duty to make sure we provide readers with a compelling ending that satisfies them as a reward for following our words. If correctly done, we will gift our readers with a story they’ll remember for the rest of their lives.

Once we hook readers with that dynamic beginning, how do we entice them through our story’s middle act, so they’ll reach that magnificent ending? The answer is by using subplots.

Subplots are the unsung mighty little engines that could. They’re the smaller sidebar stories that support our main overarching storyline, and when we weave in subplots, they can reveal character insights, increase dramatic momentum, raise the stakes, and present plot twists. While subplots are connected to the larger story, they run parallel to the main plot, sub-surface, and they should end before the larger story arc does—or at least be a part of the final wrap-up.

There are dozens of subplot ideas. Here are a few I’ve used:

• A character background subplot/flashback helps a reader understand why a character is behaving the way they do. Did your protagonist grow up abused and dirt poor? Were they a spoiled only child? What made them the way they are now?

• A love interest subplot makes the protagonist more vulnerable since they’ll be revealing their emotions and/or personal attachments. Use this subplot to engage reader empathy.

• A comedic subplot can change the story’s pace, give the reader room to breathe, and lighten the mood.

• A parallel subplot shows two different sides of the same story that will eventually converge—for better or for worse. This convergence adds tension and dramatic suspense, especially if the reader sees it coming.

• A foreshadowing subplot can be used to insert red herrings, key hints, and clues.

Here are some subplots I like to use:

• Suggest a minor or secondary character in act one, but don’t introduce them until act two. Have other characters offer dribs and drabs of that backstory to tease reader interest, suggest potential plot complications, and prefigure unforeseen obstacles.

• Give your secondary character a skill in act two that your protagonist will need to use in act three. This is particularly effective if there’s an ongoing misunderstanding or rivalry between them that must be overcome.

• Misunderstandings are great subplot devices. Emails and text messages are often misread and feelings get hurt, increasing the dramatic tension because of the conflict.

• Every character hides a secret uncertainty or fear, and no one likes to admit to a weakness. In act two, offer an earth-shattering reveal that causes extensive personal and relationship repercussions between your characters and triggers new and surprising plot twists.

The trick with subplots is to correctly use them. Weave them into your story and they will support your plot with elastic drama and tension like a trampoline. Use too many and you risk muddling your plotline, confusing your readers, and derailing your tale. Practice makes perfect and the trick, as they say, is in the telling. Don’t be afraid to try.

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Martha Reed is a multi-award-winning mystery and crime fiction author. “Love Power,” her new Crescent City NOLA Mystery featuring Gigi Pascoe, a transgender sleuth won a 2021 Killer Nashville Silver Falchion Best Attending Author Award as well as being a Silver Falchion Finalist in the Mystery category.

​Her John and Sarah Jarad Nantucket Mystery series garnered an Independent Publisher (IPPY) Book Award for Mid-Atlantic Best Regional Fiction. Her short story, “The Honor Thief” was selected for the 2021 Bouchercon anthology, This Time for Sure, edited by Hank Phillippi Ryan.

You’re invited to visit her website www.reedmenow.com for more detail.

The Mystery of Creativity

By Avanti Centrae

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Imagine: Sherlock Holmes smoking his iconic pipe. Wonder Woman wielding a golden lasso. Glow-in-the-dark lightsabers clashing during an epic battle for the future of the Empire.

Have you ever wondered how authors come up with those types of larger-than-life characters? How we work in the jaw-dropping plot twists and design stories that keep your head spinning? Or are you curious about learning tips to utilize in your own creative endeavors? 

I’m here to share my secrets with you, gentle crime aficionado. I’ll pull back the curtain in the hope that you’ll use these techniques to make the world a better place. We’ll all win.

My background is in tech. The very definition of left-brained work. I got a degree in computers from Purdue University and several decades later climbed the ladder high enough to become an IT executive for a well-known Silicon Valley firm. My world was spreadsheets, PowerPoint slides, and meetings. Oh, the meetings...talking on the phone while answering emails from my manager while simultaneously dealing with four instant messages. Argh! PTSD flashback! 

I digress. The point is that’s a left-brained world. I wanted to be a thriller writer. Right-brained inspiration required. But how do I get the creative juices flowing?

I began my novel writing journey with an outline—the left brain’s answer to plotting. But as I added layer after layer, I found plot twists and character traits coming to mind at the oddest times. I’d be on a walk with the dogs, and an idea would come to me. I’m sure the neighbors thought me strange as I jotted down ideas in my BlackBerry while the German Shepherds pulled me down the street by their leashes. Or I’d take a hot shower, and that pesky plot problem would magically resolve itself. After toweling off, I’d take notes for later. The same thing would happen during yoga class, when meditating, or when I first woke up in the morning. Eventually, I realized my right brain, my subconscious, was adding its fingerprint to the story. 

Once I realized when my muse liked to contribute, I started to use those times as windows of opportunity. Before I went for a walk, I’d mentally pack a chapter that I was writing in my backpack. When I stepped in the shower, a thorny plot twist would rest next to the soap bottle. The two halves of my brain work differently, and I learned to schedule writing time at a point in the day when I’m not answering emails, updating my website, or doing other heavy-lifting type thinking tasks.

I also studied brain wave patterns to find out how our minds work. In simple terms, we can all move from a problem-solving beta-brain-wave pattern to a right-brained alpha/theta creative pattern by visualizing and deepening our breath. That made sense to me, as walking, showering, meditating, and sleeping all involved physical activities that inspired my creative self.

After completing the first two books in the five-time award-winning VanOps thriller series: The Lost Power (2019) and Solstice Shadows (2020), and then writing an award-winning standalone called Cleopatra’s Vendetta (2022) I’ve figured out how my creative process works. There’s a dance between my logical brain and my creative side. I just have to set up the dance floor, turn on the music, and let the two sides tango.

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Avanti Centrae is a former Silicon Valley IT executive turned #1 international bestselling thriller author. Her multi-award-winning novels blend intrigue, history, science, and mystery into pulse-pounding action thrillers. Download the first six chapters of her edge-of-your-seat VanOps series at www.avanticentrae.com.

The Magnificent 7: Universal Story Plots and the Twelve Archetypes

By Martha Reed

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I was asked by a curious fan how I built my stories. Not where my story ideas came from, but about their actual construction, their underlying, underpinning architecture. Writers already know how to use the basic three-act structure, but are there other options in our writerly toolbox that we should be using to lure our readers in?

The answer is ‘yes.’ Human beings have certain story expectations bred into our bone marrow. Developed in pre-written history, seven universal plots and 12 archetypes have successfully survived into our modern era, crossing multiple cultural divides. That’s not to say writers should rigidly follow a static and unwavering formula or create stale and hackneyed characters. Those would instantly turn an avid reader off. But do the following inherited plots and archetypes still have something to offer?

First, let’s look at definitions:

• The basic story question is: “What happens next?”

• Plot happens next. It’s the sequence of events inside the story.

• An archetype is a story element like an idea, a symbol, pattern, emotion, character type, or event that occurs in all cultures. Archetypes represent something universal in the overall human experience. (I’ll share an example. The international movie, “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon” used so many common archetypes that I found myself repeatedly wondering if I’d seen the movie before.)

In 2004, literary theorist Christopher Booker wrote “The Seven Basic Plots: Why We Tell Stories,” basing his premise on the following seven plots:

1. Overcoming the monster – An evil force is threatening the hero/heroine and their world. The h/h must slay the monster to receive a great reward.

2. Rags to riches – The h/h is insignificant and overlooked by others. Because of a trigger event, they are revealed to be exceptional.

3. The quest – The h/h sets out on a long, hazardous quest, overcoming all obstacles until they reach their goal.

4. Voyage and return – The h/h travels outside of their comfortable world into the unknown before returning to the safety of their home.

5. Comedy – A series of trigger events involving mistaken identity or a fundamental misunderstanding that results in hilarious chaos.

6. Tragedy – A story without a happy ending that ends in loss or death.

7. Rebirth – The h/h falls under a dark form of control before breaking free and being redeemed. 

Regarding archetypes, psychologist Carl Jung theorized that we use such symbolism to grasp complex concepts more easily. He stated: “There are forms or images of a collective nature which occur practically all over the earth as constituents of myths and at the same time, as individual products of the unconscious.” Jung maintained that these archetypes remained unchanged and recognizable and that they exhibit personality traits that are commonly understood.

The 12 archetypes are:

1. The Innocent – Seeks to do things the right way in harmony, free of corruption or influence.

2. Everyman – Seeks connections and belonging. Supportive, faithful, and down-to-earth.

3. Hero – On a mission to make the world a better place.

4. Outlaw – Questions authority and breaks the rules.

5. Explorer – Inspired by travel, adventure, and risk.

6. Creator – Imaginative and inventive, driven to create things with real meaning.

7. Ruler – Creates order from chaos. Typically controlling and stern, yet responsible and organized. 

8. Magician – Makes dreams a reality.

9. Lover – Inspires intimate moments with love, passion, romance, and commitment.

10. Caregiver – Protects and nurtures others.

11. Jester – Uses humor, irreverence, mischief, and fun to bring joy to the world.

12. Sage – Thoughtful mentor or advisor bringing wisdom and deeper insight.

Taking this information, try these exercises to tighten your creative focus:

• Name a book or movie that uses each one of the seven plots.

• Name a character from a book or a movie that fits each of the 12 archetypes.

• Using your current work in progress, which of the seven plots fits your story? If you discover some overlap, which plot is stronger? What happens to your storyline when you focus only on that one?

• Identify an archetype for each one of your characters. Next step: which archetype do they think they are? Do the two choices match? What happens to your focus and your character’s motivations when they do?

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Martha Reed is the IPPY Book Award-winning author of the John and Sarah Jarad Nantucket Mysteries and of “Love Power,” her latest mystery set in the spellbinding city of New Orleans featuring Gigi Pascoe, a transgender sleuth. 

She’s an active member of the Florida Gulf Coast and Guppy chapters of Sisters in Crime, a member of Mystery Writers of America, and in a moment of great personal folly she joined the New Orleans Bourbon Society (N.O.B.S.)

Her stories and articles have appeared in Pearl, Suspense Magazine, Spinetingler, Mystery Readers Journal, Mysterical-e, and in “Lucky Charms – 12 Crime Tales,” an anthology produced by the Mary Roberts Rinehart Pittsburgh chapter of Sisters in Crime. Her story, “The Honor Thief” was included in the 2021 Bouchercon anthology, “This Time For Sure,” edited by Hank Phillippi-Ryan.

Martha adores travel, big jewelry, California wine country, and simply great coffee. She delights in the ongoing antics of her family, fans, and friends who she lovingly calls The Mutinous Crew. You’re invited to follow her on Facebook and Twitter @ReedMartha.

Five Writing Tips No One Has Ever Told You

By Philip Cioffari

A bold assertion, I know, but there are things one learns over a lifetime of writing that seem to contradict what we’ve been taught and even, at times, to defy both logic and rationality. What follows is a short list of—insights might be too strong a word—items that I’ve learned the hard way.

ONE. You don’t need an idea to get started. Waiting for inspiration or for a “good idea” can be frustrating and time-consuming. Another way of saying that is you’re wasting precious time. Ideas are curious entities and they form in many different ways and for many different reasons. Most often, I’ve found they develop in stages; rarely do they appear fully formed. In lieu of that fully dressed idea, a writer can begin with an image, a single sentence, a character performing a simple action, a particular setting, or even a single word. Anything can serve as a starting point.

Take for example the case of Tennessee Williams. He has stated that his play, A Streetcar Named Desire, began with a single image: a woman in white sitting on a porch. That image eventually became the character Blanche du Bois: the tragic heroine of arguably one of the greatest American plays of the 20th century. When I began my first novel, I had only this notion: a group of boys playing in one of New York City’s urban swamplands. I had no sense of what I wanted to write—or that it would indeed turn out to be a novel—beyond that small detail. Some 10 years later—I know, I know, a hell of a long time, but it was my first—and my novel, Catholic Boys, emerged.

My point is, you can begin anywhere, with the barest scrap of material. Who knows where it will lead? The journey toward the idea is half the fun. One word on the page leads to a second, one sentence to a second sentence. It’s as basic as that.

TWO. Plot is another name for character development. One doesn’t have to agonize over outlining a plot or whether a plot is interesting enough. You don’t need a plot to begin. If the characters are interesting, the plot will be too, because the most genuine, credible plots are an extension of a character’s desires. If you know what a character wants, what the obstacles are, and what he or she will do to overcome those obstacles, then the plot, as if by wizardry, takes form. Simply follow your character’s struggle to reach an objective. And you will have your plot.

THREE. Tension should exist in every sentence. Much can be said about the ways to create narrative tension, but a simple rule I strive for is to have some kind of tension in every sentence of my books. That tension can be of varying kinds, it can be explicit or implicit, but it needs to be there. And I’m not talking about obvious explicit tension—a stabbing or a fist fight or an argument between people. That speaks for itself. I’m referring to the more subtle variations of implicit tension: something is unfinished or unresolved, something is left unsaid, something needs fixing, something is missing that a character needs or wants, and so forth.

Take for example a typical poem of the Romantic era. On the surface, the poem is praising the beauty of a particular flower, but the tension beneath the surface is that as beautiful as this flower is, it’s going to wither and die. So ultimately the poem is about, and the tension comes from, our sense of transience, loss, and grief.

FOUR. Finding your way when you get lost. Nothing is worse for me than losing my emotional connection to my work in the midst of creating it. Where did it go–that connection to the material, that passion that got me started on the work in the first place? Personally, I try to never abandon a work I’ve begun. Something stimulated my initial interest, impulse, or passion. For some reason the material or characters reached out and grabbed hold of me. There’s a story there that needs telling, so I try to forget what I’ve written so far and go back in search of that original impulse. Maybe that means revisiting a place or making contact again with a person or people connected to the incident I’m writing about. Often it’s a matter of feeling my way back to the source: those feelings that first got me engaged in the piece. I might listen to songs or look through photos from a particular period. Essentially, though, I’m trying to pinpoint the source of the impulse that made me want to begin writing the piece in the first place. If I can reconnect to it, I can usually reconnect to the story I’m telling. (This may mean eliminating some or even most of what I’ve written. It may mean going back to that point in the story where I went offtrack and picking up from there.)

FIVE. Revisions take time and distance. One can, and should, do some revisions at the conclusion of completing a piece. What I’ve found is that vital revisions require some kind of separation from that initial effort. What has served me best is to set the work aside and begin a new writing project. When I’ve completed a draft of the new project, then I go back and rework the previous piece. There’s something about immersing oneself in a new writing project that brings with it a sense of objectivity and awareness that’s necessary in the final polishing of a manuscript. Resist the temptation to rush it off for publication. A piece of writing needs time to mature. And we, as writers, are well-served to mature along with it.

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Philip Cioffari grew up in the Bronx and received his B.A. from St. John's University and his Ph.D. from New York University. He teaches in the writing program at William Paterson University. His novels and story collections include: If Anyone Asks, Say I Died From The Heartbreaking Blues; The Bronx Kill; Catholic Boys; Dark Road, Dead End; Jesusville; and A History Of Things Lost Or Broken.