The number one most important thing about your hero isn’t that she can wield two swords with equal grace, or that she was abandoned as a child on the doorstep of a house of assassins, or even that her eyes hold the promise of a storm-tossed sea. What is most important about your hero is her personality. That is what will make people love her. That is what will annoy the crap out of her comrades. And that is what will be central to her story.

This isn’t to say that you shouldn’t flesh out her likes and dislikes, friends and enemies, and her rich and complicated history. All that’s important too! But the secret to a character’s actions, reactions, and pursuit of happiness is her personality. And the sooner you figure out that personality, the sooner you’ll be able to climb inside her head and figure out her voice.

Ideally, the key to her personality should be simple and easy to grasp. Because, let’s be honest: it’s not like you’re making just one character. You have a whole cast of characters to dictate around the page and plot! And coming up with distinct personalities for each and every one of them is essential for a strong, character-driven novel.

But how to reduce something as complex as a personality to a mere outline? And for so many characters! Well, there are probably a hundred different answers to that, ranging from Jung-Myers-Briggs typing all your characters to answering hundreds of questions about each of them. But here’s one simple, at-a-glance method I’ve found helpful for quickly pinning down the hearts of all your characters.

List Six of Your Core Values

The things that tug at a reader’s heartstrings, that make him willing to follow a hero to the gates of hell, are those things that most clearly express his own core values. And by core values, I mean things like Honesty, Loyalty, Kindness, and Bravery. Ideals that, when well expressed, can pull tears from a reader’s eyes—making him wish the world was that cool. But often, an author will write with the values he has seen assigned to heroes in other people’s art, rather than harnessing the power of the values that speak to him. And aping another’s values will never be as powerful as expressing your own.

Central to the actions of each character is the value she holds most dear. This is not to say that she does not also think other values are important. It’s just identifying the one value that defines her at her core. Her adherence to this one core value will inform whether she feels good or guilty, how she feels about others, and how she overcomes obstacles. Each core value should build a distinctly different character. If a character holds the value of Honesty most dear, for instance, she will react differently to a situation than a character who values Kindness, and their differing opinions will put them at odds. Add in a character who finds Loyalty most important, and you’ve got a real conflict brewing.

So what values do you hold most dear? Try to use the most descriptive words you can—words that, when said, give you an immediate picture. You’ll want to come up with at least six, and try to make sure they don’t overlap too much, so that they’ll each build the core to a very different character. Here are a few of mine: Honesty, Loyalty, Bravery, Generosity, Kindness, and Idealism.

List Twelve Flaws

And by flaws, I don’t mean Greed, Pride, Lust, or any of those other demons that seem to nibble at everyone’s toes. I mean the little, nagging things that affect your interactions with people. The words you might use to describe an acquaintance, like Shy, Vain, or Cocky. None of these words should mean your character is a bad person—so you don’t want words like “sociopathic killer” or “backstabbing cake-eater.” In fact, many of the kinds of flaws I’m talking about could even be considered endearing—if aggravating if you have to live with them. They’re certainly humanizing. And they’re not all-the-time flaws or, heaven-forefend, the only flaws the character possesses. It’s more just that when your character goes wrong, for whatever reason, this is how they tend to go wrong. And we all have things like that!

These things, outside of the core value of your character, help shape how your character reacts. Say you have a Loyalty-core character, for instance. Loyalty is the heart of her, and her challenges and triumphs will center around her Loyalty. But, aside from being loyal, she is also Cocky—a trait which pairs well with Lazy. She will be there for her friends, but she is also overconfident of her abilities, a bit of a braggart, waits to the last minute, and takes too many risks, because of her supreme confidence in her abilities.

For this area, you’ll want to try to come up with at least twelve words, as each character will get two primary flaws. I like to use words like: Shy, Aggressive, Lazy, Rude, Headstrong, and Insecure

List Eighteen Personality Traits

If the core value forms the shape of your character, and the flaws are the shading that make her pop out in 3d, then her personality traits give her color. These traits can be flashy. They may actually define acquaintances entirely, before you get to know them. For example, you may know an acquaintance as Athletic or Studious or Stylish. But, while highly visible, these traits have far less impact on a character’s decision making and reactions than her core value and her flaws. A character may have a strong emotional attachment to being Athletic, and may fight for the right to be assigned that trait. But realistically, if she for some reason became less Athletic, she’d still be the same person with the same personality and the same bundle of flaws and values.

For example, let’s take our Loyalty-core character who is also Cocky and Lazy. When it comes time to pick her personality traits, you can pick anything you want, but it is often helpful to pick things that put a story behind the flaws. So, what is our character Cocky about? Perhaps she is very Athletic, which with Cocky leads her to be Competitive and Adventurous as well. Now you have a pretty good idea about her character arcs—what you would value in her as a friend, and how she would get on your last nerve.

For this area, the words you pick should not be words you associate with good or evil—you should be able to apply them equally to villains or heroes. Try to pick at least eighteen, as each character will have three primary personality traits. Some of the words I use are: Graceful, Competitive, Practical, Studious, Social, and Adventurous.

Chart It Out

And you’re almost done! Now you just have to put them all in a chart. If you’d prefer, you can also use my example chart at the top of the page. Make a copy for each character. Then, circle one core value, two flaws, and three personality traits for each. And that’s it! Your character outline is now complete. From there, you can go on to build a fully realized character, with a rich back story, goals, enemies, and friends.

Remember, this is only intended to be a baseline for your characters—an at-a-glance personality chart to help get you started that you can touch base on when you want to make sure each character is acting in accordance with his or her nature. It is hardly a fully realized back story! And, as strong back stories make strong novels, I highly recommend spending some love on fleshing out your shiny new outlines. Your characters—and your Future Self—will thank you.

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Happy Writing!

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You know that guy who ends every sentences in three exclamation points? What speaks louder to you: the content of his missive, or the fact that he screams everything he says? That, my friend, is the power of punctuation.

We talk a lot about words when discussing writing—from the sounds of words to the myriad of ways to arrange those words. But writing isn’t just composed of words. There are also spaces, italics, bold text, all caps, small caps, and a whole legion of punctuation. And I’m not just talking about your use of the serial comma, or whether you put one or two spaces after a period! I’m talking about a host of hard-hitting exclamation points, question marks, ellipses, em-dashes, semi-colons, and other unassuming characters that add bursts of personality your manuscript—whether you like it or not.

Just like the music in a movie, punctuation can drastically alter mood and interpretation. That same sob scene will read differently if it’s backed by the world’s tiniest violin squeaking unsympathetically, the hellfire and brimstone of Carmina Burana, or banjos. But overdosing on strong punctuation is like setting your make-up gun to “nightmare circus”—leaving the face of your manuscript a riot of screaming colors.

As a rule, the reader should never come away with a stronger impression of your punctuation than your story. So how to wrangle these textual divas into enhancing your prose—rather than distracting from your intent? Here I’ve outlined the many personalities of punctuation, along with tips on how to—and more importantly, how not to—use them.

Exclamation Points Try Too Hard
Example: I love you!!!

Exclamation points are like party hats for your sentences. Like a literary laugh track, they are excited and want to let you know that you should be excited too!!!–even if there's nothing to be excited about! Some people use exclamation points like smiley faces—to show that they’re enthusiastic. And a lot of people use them for everything in children’s books, because they want kids to be excited about what they’re writing, and probably because they get the sense that they should talk to kids in a very energetic voice. But I dare you—just once, try reading a book written entirely in exclamation points aloud. It begins to sound a lot like screaming.

Now don’t get me wrong—as anyone who reads Writers Don’t Cry regularly can tell, I love exclamation points! They definitely have their place. But tragically, that place isn’t every sentence. In fact, in a book with a lot of exclamation points, I tend to read at least half of them as sarcastic, even if they weren’t intended to be so. But we see so many of them these days, especially in email, that we have become exclamation point blind—to the extent that when someone doesn’t use them, we may wonder if they secretly hate us or something. So, to help yourself see them again, try putting every sentence that ends in an exclamation point in bold text or all caps. Then, if it reads too loud, cut it!

Question Marks Are a Little Lost
Example: I love you?

What does it mean when you use a question mark? Does it mean the character is uncertain of the answer? Or perhaps that the character is actually asking a question? Or do you just want to imply the tone goes up? Are you using it to show that your character is not an idiot and is considering multiple options? Or to show that your character is uncertain? Is your character a bad character for thinking in all question marks?

Question marks are like helium balloons—they can be cute, descriptive, or make you sound funny. And while a few questions can prove thoughtful, too many questions marks makes the story feel like it boggles even the author’s mind—which is never a good sign.

I’ve always felt that question marks give you a glimpse of the author’s thought process. A number of authors pepper their zero drafts with question marks—and there’s nothing wrong with that! Their prose is brimming with questions, just like the author. And it’s good to be thoughtful at that stage in the game. The trick is, when you go through in the first draft or even the second draft, to look at those questions and to smooth it out to make sure they say what you really want them to say.

Ellipses Are Micromanagement
Example: I . . . love you.

Ellipses are ultra dramatic. They know how to make an entrance . . . and they’re even better at memorable exits. They know the power of the pregnant pause and they wield a mighty raised eyebrow. With three little dots, they can express sarcasm or disbelief, be patronizing or thoughtful, or just show a theatrical sense of timing. They can even put on an affected display of searching for a word of the . . . less insulting variety. But using too many ellipses can make reading . . . interesting. As can all the sarcastic side-stepping they tend to attract.

Overdosing on ellipses is usually the result of a desperate desire for the reader to experience your story exactly as it is in your head. But this micromanaging can make it feel like the author is breathing down your neck as you read, commanding you to feel exactly what they want you to feel, and generally, distracting you from the story proper. And as tempting as it can be to make sure readers don’t miss a thing, you have to remember: trust your reader. Sure, it won’t be exactly as it is in your head, but that’s the beauty of it. Every reader brings something different to their experience of a story—and that’s all theirs. Don’t take that away from them, or they may never get into your story enough to enjoy it.

Try treating ellipses like unusual words, and give yourself a limit. Alternatively, make it the mark of a particular character, and make sure other characters react to it. To help raise your awareness of ellipses, try highlighting all the ellipses in your manuscript. (Hint: if the page yellow, that’s too many.)

Em-Dashes Can’t Get Enough of Themselves
Example: I—love—you.

Em-dashes are smart, sarcastic, and brimming with witty insights and snide asides. They are the ones who sit next to you in class and give you a running commentary—alternately cynical and hilarious—to everything the teacher says. And I have to admit, this is my personal—and most beloved—weakness. When I first discovered em-dashes, I littered every sentence with em-dashes. I used them in place of commas, ellipses, and semi-colons. I used them for dramatic effect, for snippy asides, and to add additional layers of meaning. I used them just to use them, because they look so pretty on the page. Like little literary eyebrows.

But, it turns out, the place for em-dashes isn’t everywhere. Too many em-dashes can make your sentence twisted and confusing, and the original meaning of your sentence can be lost in the flood of snark. Just try reading something full of em-dashes aloud! The number of tonal shifts required to keep the parts of the sentence straight alone will boggle your tongue. It bears remembering that the witty aside is only witty when cast in relief to the straight shooter. All on its own, it gets to looking a bit silly. Like a man talking to his hand.

The Number One Trick: Read It Aloud

Reading aloud is the perfect vetting device for punctuation. Make sure you read every sentence as affected by the punctuation. The screaming of exclamation points, rising tones of question marks, pregnant pauses of ellipses, and tone shifts of em-dashes will be abruptly apparent. Then try reading it without the more exotic punctuation marks. Does it change your interpretation? Lastly, to keep yourself honest (since, honestly, you’re likely pretty close to your manuscript at this point) have someone else read problem sections with and without the less common punctuation. If anything sounds weird or fails to change between the two versions, cut it. But if the punctuation enhances—by all means, exclaim, question, and pause away!

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Happy Writing!

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The hands-down scariest moment of writing is when you first hand the fruits of your labor to a reader. And for good reason! You bared your soul and poured your heart into your manuscript. Lost sleep over it. Cried tears of frustration, sweat, and blood over it. And the moment it leaves your hands—it’s no longer under your control. It’s in the hands of someone who hasn’t the barest inkling of how important it is to you. Someone for whom your manuscript is just a stumbling block on the path to LOLcats, or an actual block to set their computer monitor on. Or worse: something to be read aloud and mocked to all their friends—to everyone on the internet!—using funny voices and puppets, reducing all your hard work to a moment’s conversation fodder and leaving everyone laughing at the paucity of your heart and soul.

No one can imagine the possibilities like a creative writer. But really, the reader isn’t the enemy—and good first readers aren’t either. They are, in fact, your first line of defense against being puppetified. A good reader sees the dream behind your manuscript and helps you achieve it. They point out where things are confusing, and where things could be even better. They see the awesome potential in characters and plots and show it to you so you can take advantage of it. And they also let you know when your darlings are showing, or when you have toilet paper stuck to your shoe.

In short, a good first reader is a Writer’s BFF. But critiques, often the first step before seeing a professional editor, are a two-way street! And if you’re going to find a good WBFF, you need to be a good WBFF. Which means learning how to give an insightful, actionable critique without turning into the unfeeling, puppetifying demon you first imagined your reader to be. Developing solid critiquing skills is a lot of work—but being on both sides of the red pen has real advantages. First of all, learning to critique means you know what to look for in a WBFF. Secondly, developing a relationship with someone you can trust to give you honest feedback sucks the fear out of first reads, and will help your writing improve by leaps and bounds. And, aside from all that, having empathy for the other side of the red pen will help you put what feedback you receive to the best use. There's nothing like practice to hone that skill. That being said, here are five cardinal rules to critiquing to get you started.

Play Nice

Remember all that fear you had about showing someone else your work? You are not alone. So don’t justify that fear! Instead, remember that even if it’s not to your taste, they worked damn hard on it, and it took a great deal of courage and determination for them to show you their manuscript.

That means, when you see something you don’t like, don’t just tell them “this sucks”—even if it does. Instead, look for a place that same thing is done well elsewhere in the book, and point that out. Then recommend they fashion the thing you didn’t fancy after the thing you did. Another option is to figure out who their writing is most similar to, and recommend they try some of the techniques that author used.

Don’t Blow Smoke

Don’t tell someone their cow pie is really double-fudge—otherwise, they and everyone they serve up steaming slice will be shocked and horrified to discover your sweet betrayal. Instead: be honest. If something doesn’t work for you, point it out—and if something does work for you, point that out too. Obviously, don’t be a jerk about it. But it’s just as jerky to tell a naked emperor he’s wearing clothes as it is to point and laugh.

Be Specific

Saying you love or hate someone’s book can make or break their day—but being specific can make or break their book. So instead of offering (un-) pleasantries, try telling them exactly what worked or didn’t work for you, how it made you feel, why you think it made you feel that way, and some ideas for how they could change it to make you feel differently. Circle words if you can, underlining the exact moment things went astray. That way, even if you misunderstand their aim, the writer can use your feedback to understand where, how, and why their intentions succeeded—or failed to translate onto the page. Either way, your feedback is actionable and valuable in a way vagaries will never be.

Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff

This is no place for commas, young lady! Unless the irregular use of commas has you rolling your eyes in your head, unable to understand a word that’s on the page, check your CMS at the door. Likewise, don’t bother with spelling errors, and grammar goofs, and other cosmetic errors. Chances are, if this is a first draft, all that’s going to be rewritten at some point anyway.

This is the place to think big. Think about the overall plot: are there holes, or any parts that drag, or feel out of place? Think about the characters: do you relate to them, find them compelling, and do they have clear goals and character development? How was the tone, flow, and voice?

Tell Them What You Loved

It’s a proven fact that telling people when they do something you like is the most effective way to get more of what you like–even if it’s not perfect. If you take a shine an otherwise unlikeable character’s sense of humor, point that out! Have them pull that humor to the forefront. Most people spend their whole lives being told what sucks in their writing—and don’t have a clue what worked. Which means they’re just as likely to throw out the good stuff as the bad, unless you let them know what parts are keepers.

Questions to Ask Before Critiquing

1. What genre is your piece?

2. What is your target audience?

3. What stage is your manuscript in?

4. What do you want to get out of this critique?

5. What are your goals for your manuscript?

6. Do you have any special concerns with this manuscript?

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Happy Writing!

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You know what I’m talking about. We’ve all been there. You’re immersed, in the zone, and totally engaged. You can feel the damp stone, taste the stale air, hear the “drums, drums in the deep” . . . When suddenly, something banana yellow and comically out of place rips you out of the story and ruins it. You grimace, and try to start again, squinting to ignore that one part, struggling to not even think about it. But once there, the insidious mood killer gets under your skin. You keep waiting for it to reappear.  It’s like a stain on the whole book.

One of the main mistakes writers make here is assuming a captive audience. But readers aren’t captive—they’re captivated. And that is a state much easier lost than gained. Of course, it’s your book—you can do whatever you want. But think of the characters. And the readers. And the sound your book will make as it smashes against a wall and slides slowly to the floor, never to be picked up again . . .

It is a horrible sound. Trust me, you don’t want to hear it. So, what are these mood killers, and how do you avoid them? Glad you asked! I’ve collected four of my . . . erm, favorites here, along with ways to avoid them. Enjoy! And may your writing ever avoid the walls.

Your Darlings: You Know What to Do

Imagine this: you’re really digging the intensely romantic smolder your date has going on, when you suddenly realize they’re not actually looking at you: they’re checking themselves out in your glasses. Just as you realize this, they start flirting… with themselves. Take it from me: it doesn’t matter how smoking hot their smolder is, once it’s clear the only thing they’re into is themselves, it’s over.

Your darlings? Are the same thing. Allowing your darlings the luxury of life is giving into the temptations of self-infatuation. Sure, when you write for yourself, anything goes. Have at it. Indulge yourself. But when you write for an audience, don’t expose your darlings. Overworked turns of phrase, anachronistic or ill-timed witticisms, and out-of-character indulgences are the most common darlings. But the greatest offender by far is when  a writer–having spent countless hours creating a believable world brimming with life–feels the need to describe every leaf of every plant the hero passes, as well as what that leaf’s history is, what it can be used for, and what it symbolizes in the various cultures of the world.

What to Do: Darlings are insidious because, while it’s dead easy to see other people’s darlings, it’s ridiculously hard to see your own. So get yourself some feedback! And don’t forget to ask specifically if there’s anything that dragged or felt out of place. Readers are far more willing to tell you these things than telling you what they simply “didn’t like,” and inviting this commentary specifically makes it more likely that you’ll get useful feedback. And if you hear something didn’t work for them and your immediate reaction is defensive? Then congratulations, you’ve found one of your darlings! You know what to do.*

*Of course, you don’t have to kill it—you can also work with the reader to find a way to make it work for you both. But don’t take killing it off the table until you’re sure you’ve accomplished that.

The Stupid Gas: Don’t Use It

We’ve all had that moment—we’re digging the plot, the atmosphere is right on, and the villain is deliciously threatening—when the characters, for some godforsaken reason, decide it’s a good idea to split up and “cover more ground” despite it being the downfall of every hero in every horror movie ever. Not to mention cliché. For the longest time, I just couldn’t figure it out! And then, a recent (brilliant) movie explained it: it’s the Stupid Gas.

Authors: don’t use the Stupid Gas. It kills the mood every time. If you need your characters to do something against all the good sense you gave them, don’t just make them do it: give them a good reason. Otherwise they’re not characters, they’re puppets.

What to Do: I feel for you. I really do. Your plot hinges on characters doing this one thing—and you’ve already reworked the plot a hundred times, and at this point, you just want it to work, characters be damned. But giving your characters hell in the name of motivation is a crucial part of a good book—and can even be a great deal of fun, in a maniacal villain kind of way. One of the easiest ways is to make it personal. Perhaps they even know what they’re doing is a bad idea, but they have to do it, because otherwise Fluffy will be made into pancakes. Or perhaps they have a hidden agenda that they think they can advance. Or maybe it preys on the character’s weakness: he knows it’s questionable, but he genuinely thinks it’s the lesser of two evils.

Soap Boxes: Better for Holding Soap

Oh, man. You know what would really dial this scene up to 11? Picture this: a lecture! Now that we’ve put the characters in an emotionally taut situation with the world hanging in the balance, let’s stop everything, put the apocalypse on hold, and have the hero tell everyone the moral of the story and how the reader should apply it to their own life. Oh, also, repercussions for not doing so. That would be killer. Am I right? Totally sexified.

It’s great to be passionate and idealistic, but no matter how you tart them up, soap boxes aren’t sexy. And, with the possible exception of Ayn Rand’s 60-page essay in Atlas Shrugged (which gets quite a few people hot under the collar) lectures aren’t sexy either. This doesn’t mean you can’t use your work to champion stories that embrace your ideals: you totally can! Margaret Atwood does so beautifully in The Handmaid’s Tale. But primary goal of your story should still be to tell a damn good story—not to browbeat your reader.

What to Do: Show don’t tell. And of course by “show” I mean “show with finesse.” Killing the woman who has premarital sex first is still a trifle heavy-handed.

Cardboard: It’s Not For Kissing

There you are, in a vivid world as gritty or as lush as you might desire. The hero is the engaging kind you really want to meet, and secretly hope would like you. Things are getting tense, and you’re really getting into it, when suddenly, into the picture tumbles: a Slave Leia cardboard cutout. That in itself is kind of a mood killer. But then, to make matters worse, your otherwise logical hero sweeps this cardboard cutout into his arms, rescues it from the destructive powers of villains and the rain, and gazes longingly into its flat, emotionless eyes. You don’t even want to know what happens next.

And I mean, I get it: stereotypes are comfortable. Easy. As characters, they fit into plots in predictable ways. But not only do stereotypes alienate large portions of your audience, they also add a stiff unrealistic element to an otherwise groovy story. Suddenly, instead of a love story between two realistic characters with dreams and scars and stories of their own, you have one character getting it on with some cardboard. Not sexy.

What to Do: Making every character is multidimensional is hard. Realistically, some characters really are there only for a plot purpose, and have very little word count to their name–if they even get a name. Still, even if you don’t have time to give them depth, resist the temptation to give in wholly to the stereotype, and give them some color. It will do wonders for the believability and richness of your world.

So there you have it! Four things to avoid amongst the millions of possibilities that will help keep your book from being thrown unceremoniously against a wall. May gravity be ever in your favor.

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Happy Writing!

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You there! Stop! Whatever you do: don’t touch that pen. Before you write even one word of that outline, there’s something you need to think about long and hard. It’s a very important question. It will determine whether your first draft is filled with tears of rage and despair or with joy, rainbows, and mechanical unicorns. It is the most important of important questions, and I ask it with all seriousness: Have you sat down and thought about what kind of a writer you are recently? And no, I don’t mean what overworked, underappreciated, underpaid writers whose creativity’s constantly under assault by the mundane demands of everyday life we all are. I mean what you do well, what you suck at, and what you hope one day to not suck at. Believe me, this is a far more important question than picking out your hero’s name (though that is also a process rife with peril).

See, the success of a book isn’t just the quality of the idea—it’s also how well the idea fits your skill set and interests. I know designing your book around things you do well and avoiding things you do badly sounds like a total no brainer—but it’s actually not very intuitive. Most people are so wrapped up in the agonies of the harrowing that is outlines that they don’t think about how they made that thing they hate integral to the plot until it’s far too late—or worse, they don’t even have an outline, and they wrote themselves into a literary corner filled with all their least favorite writing techniques. Not to mention, giving your talents a place to shine can be hard when you happened to design a plot that doesn’t give you a place to show them off.

So take a little time and think about yourself.  You’re far more likely to finish a book you’re jazzed writing than one that fills you with dread. And who knows? You may even come up with an idea or two for a new book while you’re at it! Here are a few questions to get you started.

Brag to Me, Baby

Humbleness is well and good. But pre-book time is no time to be humble. I want you to brag to me, baby. Toot your own horn. Sing your own praises from the rooftops. Because I want you to think about what you do really well—and I don’t mean about how you really know your way around a comma, or how you hardly ever misplace quotation marks. I mean the kinds of scenes you delight in—and that equally delight your readers. Those blessed writing moments that are so “easy” you don’t spare them a second thought—may we all have more of them.

It is important to actually think about what you do well before you start plotting your shiny new book. Not only will this provide the confidence and mood booster you’ll need to get through the hell that is outlining and the inescapable killing field of infinite woe that is first drafts, but it’s also a good sign of things you should maybe try to touch on in your book.

Do evocative descriptions come as naturally as breathing to you? Then make sure your book has plenty of occasions for those. This means making sure that descriptive passages enhance your story—without detracting, breaking pace, or feeling out of place. And it means considering things like setting. If there is not much change in backdrop, then keeping descriptions from getting repetitive can be a challenge.

Does snappy dialogue, filled with personality infuse your every page? Then build your book around dialogue! Try not to leave your characters alone, where dialogue means they’re talking to themselves or inanimates, and make sure to give your main character a number of interesting personalities to interact with. Make sure that the kind of book you’re writing goes well with the style of dialogue you prefer—rather than breaking the mood or feeling anachronistic.

Or are fight scenes your bread and butter—unfolding off the page with startling vividness? Then it might behoove you to get your character into a bit of trouble. This means thinking of a setting that can provide you with interesting combat opportunities, and a character that has a way of falling into trouble. Having an excuse for a variety of opponents who fight in a variety of visually arresting styles is also helpful. And don’t knock finding reasons to include cliffs, rope bridges, the insides of crowded book stores, and other places that will give you things to play with during a fight.

The Parts that Suck

This is the part to be humble. To be as brutally honest and open as you can be with yourself. What parts do dread writing? You know what I’m talking about. The bits you skip, telling yourself you’ll come back later. The things you rewrite sixty times because you just can’t get them right and you’re still unhappy with them in the end. The stuff you don’t even know how to start. The parts that suck.

Thinking about the parts that suck sounds like a total downer, but it’s actually kind of empowering because—since this is your book—you don’t have to put any of the sucky parts in it. And enumerating sucky bits ahead of time helps make sure you don’t accidentally hinge your plot on one of them (don’t laugh; believe me, it happens to the best of us).

Of course, it can also help to figure out what exactly it is that you hate about writing those particular scenes, and if you’ve ever seen it done in a way you particularly like. While avoidance may be the answer, there are also times when you can adjust or limit the scenes to better fit your writing style.

Stretch Goals

Playing to your strengths doesn’t mean you should stop trying to grow as a writer: it just means don’t punish yourself by ignoring the things you’re good at and wallowing in the things you hate most. That being said, consider giving yourself a stretch goal or two. Think about the things you may not be the best at now that you’d love to add to your list of skills in the near future—and put one or two of them in your book. To make yourself more confident about their inclusion keep the new parts small at first, do some writing exercises that will help you tackle the tricky issues, and read books that excel in the parts you find problematic.

Of course, writing a book is no cake walk even without stretch goals. It requires truckloads of determination, a pinch of inspiration, and oceans of perspiration. So don’t be more of a masochist than you have to: write what you love. The rest will come with practice.

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Happy Writing!

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Writers worry constantly over how they sound. They worry that they don’t sound smart enough, hip enough, deep enough, or worst of all, writerly enough. That their writing is regressing, that everyone will find out that they’re faking it, that they’re frauds, that the only thing they know about writing is banging out words on a keyboard, and that sometimes, those words don’t even make sense. They worry that they don’t have a good voice.

But here’s the big secret: they–and you–probably already have a wonderful, authentic voice that is all your own. One that will endear you to readers and give your stories that elusive transportive quality you’ve been searching for. The key is freeing it from your preconceived notions of what a good voice is. See, the goal of writing isn’t to write just like George R. R. Martin, or to sound writerly, or even to obey all the grammar and spelling rules. The goal of writing is to tell a damn good story. And that means you can’t afford to let your writing get in the way of what you have to say.

Good writing sounds effortless, natural, and 100% authentic. Which means that when it comes to your voice, you are at your best when you’re just being you. Sounds easy right? I mean, you practically live with yourself! But believe it or not, most people spend so much time listening to other people’s voices, that they aren’t the best acquainted with their own. With that in mind, here are a few tips to help you find, get to know, and finally claim your voice.

Step One: Getting to Know You

This is my favorite part. This is where you start to define what it means to be you—what your voice encompasses and evokes. Basically, you know what you do for your characters? We’re going to do that for you. Because, in many ways, finding your voice is defining your character on the world-wide stage.

Your voice is essentially the embodiment of your personality. So, to start, come up with three or four adjectives that you feel really fit your personality. Like sharp, friendly, honest, irreverent, witty, charming, or cheeky. Next, try to pick the three or four songs that perfectly express those parts of you. You’ll know you’ve hit it when the songs suit your mood so perfectly they are completely unobtrusive—as if they belong there. Try writing about your favorite hobby while playing this soundtrack in the background, and see what happens.

Step Two: And All Your Hats

I'm a bitch, I'm a lover
I'm a child, I'm a mother
I'm a sinner, I'm a saint

Of course, you’re not just one mood—nor do you wear just one hat. You are a person of many hats you wear with many different people—a wayward son, an outlaw lover, but also a friend, programmer, martial arts student, and gardening enthusiast. Just so, you will have multiple voices you can use, depending on the situation—each one of them indelibly and undeniably you.

Try expanding those three tracks into a twelve-track soundtrack to your life. Make sure you encompass the adjectives you came up with before, as well as the many roles you play in your life. Once you are done, try writing about a major turning point in your life—like the moment you first realized you were an adult and that no one could stop you from eating ice cream for breakfast. Or the moment that you first realized you wanted to be a writer, or programmer, or sea slug groomer.

Step Three: If You Were a Noodle…

All right, so now our hero’s story has a soundtrack. But a story isn’t made of sounds alone. Flesh out your understanding of your voice by adding the other senses. If your voice were a color, would it be summer sky blue, or burnished copper? Is it more crisp and refreshing like a mojito, or smooth and musky like merlot? Is it more the scent of vanilla or fresh-cut grass? More the texture of birch bark or bread dough? These might sound silly, but bear with me: figuring out what your voice evokes can be incredibly helpful in understanding it.

Now try describing the perfect day as though you were telling a good friend, keeping those descriptors in mind. This day can be a real day you experienced, or even just a theoretical day. Make sure to talk about everything that made it so great—from the food and how it smelled, to the color of the sky and the feel of the wind, to what activities you did.

Step Four: Express Yourself!

Kvothe the Bloodless spent almost a year without speaking, alone in the woods, learning how to play things as easily as he saw them, like “Wind Turning a Leaf,” “Singing with Father by the Fire,” and “Calloused Fingers and a Lute with Four Strings.” He was finding his voice with the lute—and, having found it, it is said he could make stones crack with heartbreak and trees shed their leaves unseasonably in sorrow. You, too, can benefit from a Kvothean journey in pursuit of your voice. Though, you don’t have to spend a year in isolation to work on it.

Instead, try an hour a week. In that hour, experiment with expressing heart-wrenching sorrow, transcendent joy, utter embarrassment—as well as rage, regret, and wistfulness. Try changing your atmosphere to suit your theme and see how it changes your voice. This can be as simple as turning out the lights and scented lighting candles, or as extravagant as writing while sitting on the rocks overlooking a waterfall.

Step Five: Write Dead Letters

Writing letters can allow you to tap into that natural, conversational voice that you use when talking to a good friend. Of course, you don’t actually have to send the letters—writing to a comfortable audience is the important part. You can also use a diary as a place to confide and practice expressing yourself. In fact, writing in a diary regularly is supposedly one of the top contributing factors to writing well, and, as a bonus, most of Adele’s songs supposedly start as diary entries.

Either way you choose, try starting by writing about really good book you read recently, or a funny experience you had, or even just what you did last week. But after that, try writing to different people—like your mother, your favorite teacher, or a long-lost friend. And then, trying writing as different people, like try writing as a war hero writing to their lover at home, as a cat to their owner when their owner brings in a new kitten, or as Darth Vader to his diary about detaining his daughter for the first time. Always be sure to read them aloud, to see if they’re actually something you would actually say. If you have writers’ block, try telling a story to a friend (or even an imaginary friend!) and just record and transcribe it.

Last Words

Don’t be judgmental on your true voice if it sounds funny at first–your voice is fundamentally you, and gosh darn it, people like you. This doesn’t mean you can’t work on or practice techniques, but always try to write from your heart—from the place that is honest and uncomplicated. And when you’re looking to expand your writing, look to expand yourself by reading more widely, experiencing more variety, and living life to its fullest. That should give you more than a few stories to tell.

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Happy Writing!

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If there’s one thing authors like to talk about more than their cats, it’s their characters. There are so many things to tell us about your character! Like, the depth of their wine-dark eyes, the whalebone curve of their lips, how their favorite color is the orange-pink of ocean sunsets…. And so on, down through favorite animals and up through the way they smell. And it’s understandable! You’ve spent so much time with this character that the moment they appear on the page, you want to share them in all their incredibly detailed glory.

But that’s kind of like grabbing someone you’ve just met in a full-throttle, full-body hug—while you whisper in their ear about every success you’ve achieved since the 2nd grade. All in hope of impressing them enough that they’ll like you. It’s a little too much, too soon, and no matter how awesome you actually are, they’re liable to back away slowly until they can bolt out the door.

When your reader first meets your main character, it’s a lot like flirting in a crowded room. You’re competing not only with all the other characters and setting elements in the room, but also with all the other books out there. And on top of that, you are forbidden from making the first move! So of course you want to do everything you can to help your character make an impression. Here are a few tips to help you—and your character—flirt your way into readers’ hearts.

1. Smile like a Sphinx

Nothing is more engaging than a secret. It’s like a flickering smile and a promising glance from across a room. One that hints at your clever understanding of the world, the startling depth of your personality, and the scintillating nature of your wit. It begs further investigation. It could be that the ruffian in the back of the bar with the too-intense eyes is actually a ranger-king-in-exile with a heart of gold, it could be that your hero was raised by a clan of chimera everyone assumes are the product of her imagination, or it could be hints from a devil that one twin is markedly different from her sister in ways unaffiliated with her appearance. Hinting at your hero's secrets flirts with the reader, drawing them in with the promise of learning more.

2. Be Positive

People—or heroes–with strong voices can think, emote, do, or say anything, and we’d be totally enraptured. A strong voice is pure charisma, and it’s almost always positive–or at least tempered with some combination of humor, confidence, and drive. After all, if your hero’s sick of your story, why should we want to read about it? And a charismatic voice means you can get away with starting characters in terrible, devilishly intriguing situations, as we have the confidence that we will be reading about daring escapes and derring-do rather than a cynical bastard’s humorless whinging.

3. Show Us You’re Sociable

It can be super tempting to keep your hero isolated, at least long enough for your audience to bond to them before any other lesser, perhaps more attractive characters happen by. After all, you spent so much effort getting them ready, you want to make sure they are appreciated! But give your hero a little credit. Trust that you built a good character, and put them in an interesting situation with other characters in which they can truly shine. It gives us a chance to judge them by the quality of their friends, as well as to see how others react to them and how they respond in turn. This builds empathy and teaches us far more about the character of the hero than we would learn from any amount of solitary philosophical waxing.

4. Show Us Why You’re Cool

We want to read—or meet– someone awesome, or someone whom we have it on good authority will soon be awesome. This could mean heroes showing off their trademark talents when we’re introduced to them, but I like it most when heroes show off their trademark attitudes as, just like with people, it is their attitude more than their skill that is most attractive. A future great swordsman might suck at sword play as a child, but when he fails and the other kids laugh at him, he merely thins his lips, straightens his glasses, and tries again—and again, until night has fallen and the moon has risen and he has it perfect. That is relatable, endearing, and shows us why he is cool: he never gives up in the face of adversity, and because of that, he will be a great swordsman someday. Of course, that trademark attitude can be shown through any number of mundane activities as well, and those might even serve you better, when punched up with a dose of heroic personality.

5. Show Us You’re Relatable

Push-ups. Sweat glistening on pecs the size of Texas. Breath coming short and fast. Transitioning to pull-ups. Shadows carving abs that could carve cheeses. Breath comi . . .Oh, my, I didn’t notice you there reading! Sorry, you just interrupted me in the middle of my morning hotness routine, which continues until I’m interrupted by someone as obviously infatuated as you. You can’t defeat villains without a killer physique, you know!*

It’s good to show us how awesome your hero is, and it’s good to give her something to do so they can engage our interest. However, when heroes “happen” to do things they are perfect the first time we meet them, they can come off like they’re trying too hard, which isn’t really a sexy look for anyone. To solve this problem, simply make whatever they’re doing something relatable. This can be done by having them do something mundane in an engaging fashion or by tempering their amazing actions with emotions that are all-too-human, like a huge crush or an endearing faux-pas.

*Just once, I’d love to see this flirty routine pulled by the villain. Then, of course, they can go ahead and do something mind or soul-rendingly horrific. But not before we have the sweat-slick image of his carved physique permanently burned into our minds.

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Happy Writing!

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A brilliant beginning takes your breath away and steals time. It makes you forget yourself and draws you in. You won’t emerge until hours later when you’re pulled out by a knock on the door—a knock you’re quite certain, just for a second, is a dragon. You know upon reading just a page of such a book what you’ve found: the perfect beginning.

Strong beginnings not only set the stage, they let readers know what they’re getting into, what your voice is like, who the hero is, and why they should care. Authors know this better than anybody, and so spend an inordinate amount of time fiddling with—or completely rewriting—their first chapters. And for good reason: first impressions kill. Readers decide whether or not to buy your book within a page. Editors sometimes decide within a paragraph. You have so little time to hook your reader, it’s no wonder it sets authors to hyperventilating.

But how to write that most brilliant of beginnings? If you look it up, there are enough damning reviews of bad first chapters that you might suppose it’s better to just not have one at all. And it’s true that when editing, the number one thing I ask authors to change is the first chapter—sometimes even cutting it altogether. But it’s a mistake to condemn these clichés entirely. Each cliché beginning springs from a place of resonance—and that resonance is something worth looking into. I’ve delved into a couple of the most common false starts, what they do right, what they do less than right, and what you can take from them to make your own perfect beginning.

False Start: Waking Up

The Idea: The number one piece of advice found on the internet about starting novels is to never, ever–on pain of the groans of a million jaded readers–start with your character waking up. And yet, this has to be the single most popular way for writers to start their new novels. Followed by a yawn, a look in a mirror that describes the hero, and a brief depiction of the hero in their natural habitat.

What It Gets Right: Waking up is one thing just about everyone has in common. It’s the ultimate common ground! And it is really good to think about how you’re going to get the reader to identify with your character, as that goes a long way to getting them to like your character. There is also something to be said for establishing what is normal for that world, to ground your reader and make their journey more dramatic and the magic or magical. But…

What It Gets Wrong: The number one cause of this kind of beginning is the desire to keep the cool stuff secret so it’ll make a good surprise later. Don’t. Don’t hide the good stuff. Surprises are overrated, and we need at least a glimpse of the good stuff early because otherwise we will never get to it. Waking up is a little too universal, in that it doesn’t usually tell us anything about your character, and so doesn’t really help us to identify with them. It is safe to assume that we will understand your character got up in the morning when we see them awake.

The Takeaway: Start with something a little more unique to your character—something that defines them as an individual. Like start with them sneaking out their window at night to go play midnight Frisbee in the park. Immediately, you get an image of a hero like that—which provides common ground in another area: the content of their character.

False Start: Fight Scenes

The Idea: Start with a fight scene! Action is exciting, and your reader will be hooked by the breakneck pace and your hero’s badass skills, and they will be anxious to see what happens.

What It Gets Right: It is good to start with something exciting and engaging—something with tension that presents a conflict of some sort. It’s also good to show us that your hero is cool. If you hero starts out as pathetic—and they aren’t funny or emotionally gripping—then it will be very uncomfortable to read about them. And it’s good to showcase fighting if that’s one of your strengths, and one of the hallmarks of your hero and their story.

What It Gets Wrong: What is exciting about a fight scene is rarely the actual fight–it’s what’s at stake. And it’s hard to have anything meaningful at stake when you haven’t established why people should care about your character yet. Of course, you can take short cuts to tell people they should care by making them attractive, skilled, or a victim. But use these short-cuts to empathy at your own peril. Is the only reason your character is worth caring about really because they are beautiful? Or because someone wants to hurt them?

The Takeaway: As New York Times best-selling author Paul S. Kemp says, a fight scene should either further or establish character, plot, or setting. You can certainly start with a fight scene—but make sure it’s the kind of fight scene that establishes the identity of your character as something more than a hacking machine. Also, consider other kinds of action as well—there are many tension-filled, conflict-ridden ways to start a scene, like the tomb-crawling, trap-dodging beginning of Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark, or the tension-filled card game that almost erupts into a showdown at the beginning of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.

False Start: Origin Stories… of the Universe

The Idea: On the First Day, the gods created elves, and they were perfect. Except for that one god, who created humans by accident (I just can’t get the durned ears right!). And so the world was created from the dropped bits of starstuff and clay that he discarded when trying to make elves… And so forth.

What It Gets Right: It often feels as though these scenes were inspired by the epic sweeps of the camera, the stirring music, and the dramatic voiceovers so successful in movies. And wanting to evoke that immediate sense of awe and wonder, and to ground you reader quickly and solidly in the fantastic world you’ve created, is admirable. It’s also wonderful that you took the time to create a fantasy or sci-fi world worth showing off.

What It Gets Wrong: These beginnings are something that, while effective in the movies, are not so effective in books. Movies have unquestionably changed the way we write—from the slow motion bullet dodge, to the flickering approach of undead, to the cinematic way we write fight scenes. But these sweeping shots that a movie can do in a split second take pages and pages to get across on paper. And they kind of lose their epic effect that way.

The Takeaway: The instinctive drive to evoke a mood and to create an immersive fantasy world is good. Your first scene should definitely focus on mood. But the tactics that work so brilliantly in film aren’t the best for books. Try weaving in your setting, instead of telling your readers. And think instead about what books have given you that same epic feeling—and how they did it.

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Happy Writing!

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You’ve read my columns—now drop by and say “hello!” I’ll be doing a panel at Emerald City Comicon on a subject close to my heart: villains. I know I don’t have to tell you how much cooler they are than heroes. Anyway, I’ll be bringing fabulous guest author extraordinaire Erin M. Evans, five-star author of The God Catcher and Brimstone Angels, which features some totally delectable villains. I’ll even have a few signed copies of her wicked book to give away to lucky participants.

Come for the books, stay for the villainy, and leave a little bit eviler than you walked in the door.

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Friday, March 30^th
Sympathy for the Devil: Creating Killer Villains for Games and Books
Room: L-102
Time: 7:00 – 8:00

Fascinating and devastating in their sharp suits, with their killer smiles, and their eyes that will eat you alive, villains are strong, smart, and motivated. They have that lean and hungry look. They stand alone. And say what you like about villains, but they know what they want. And that confidence is sexy.

Without the villain, there is no story. Without the villain, the heroes aren’t heroic. And without the villain, things are a lot less interesting. What is Star Wars without Darth Vader? Who is Harry Potter without Voldemort? Kick your game or book up a notch and learn the secrets behind creating killer villains with author, editor, and Amazon columnist Susan J. Morris of “Writers Don’t Cry.”

Emerald City Comicon
Washington State Convention Center
800 Convention Place
Seattle, WA 98101-2350

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Want to brush up on your Writers Don’t Cry before you go? Here’s a handy index of all my columns, which I keep scrupulously up-to-date: The Writers Don’t Cry Index. Want to chat beforehand? Follow me on Twitter @susanjmorris.

Special Announcement: Susan J. Morris (Writers Don’t Cry columnist) Philip Athans will both be appearing at Emerald City Comicon in Seattle, WA, on March 30^th. Meet the authors as Susan discusses the secrets behind creating killer villains for games and books, and Philip discusses the ins and outs of the publishing business! Details at the end of this column.

Books are more than stories—they are whole worlds. Absorptive, transportive, and filled with all the quirks, grit, and breath-taking wonders that make the magic feel oh so real. The Lord of the Rings movies brought J. R. R. Tolkien’s Middle-Earth to life in ways that had never been seen before, and we were enraptured, practicing our sword play and learning the languages of the elves—just in case. Harry Potter inspired a whole theme park where some people go again and again, just to have the feeling of being in that magical world once more. And Avatar’s Pandora was so beautiful and resonant that people actually cried at the end of the movie when they realized it wasn’t real. That they couldn’t live there.

That is the power of a well-built world.

Of course, the work required to build a world with such strong immersive properties is no small task—and it’s particularly intimidating when you’re facing the blank page of your book or outline. I mean, there’s a whole world at stake here—where do you even start? How do you know what decisions will make or break your sci-fi or fantasy world?

Fortunately, I was able to get a hold of New York Times best-selling author and editor Philip Athans, who has more than a little experience designing and maintaining worlds. A professional world-builder at Athans & Associates Creative Consulting, Philip also had a hand in maintaining The Forgotten Realms shared world for many years, creating the Fathomless Abyss world, and co-creating the shared world Arron of the Black Forest. A veteran on both sides of the red pen, Philip is ideally suited to help guide authors through creating their own rich, immersive fantasy and sci-fi worlds.

Susan: World building is such an intimidating concept. Why is it so important for fantasy and science fiction writers to establish a world for their stories? Can’t they just make it all up as they go along?

Philip: In The Guide to Writing Fantasy and Science Fiction, on my blog, Fantasy Author’s Handbook, and at conventions and so on, I continue to fall back on what I think is at the heart of successful SF and fantasy: the line between “realistic” and “plausible.” If there are dragons and magic, or aliens and faster-than-light travel in your story it’s intrinsically “unrealistic.” No one expects you to explain exactly how that stuff works, but still you hear readers make the complaint: this or that element of the story was “unrealistic.” What they really mean is that it was implausible–in that moment, they just didn’t buy it.

You always have to keep your eye on that plausibility factor, and help your readers maintain their suspension of disbelief, and the way you do that is by establishing a clear set of rules for how things like magic or FTL starships work, and sticking to those rules. If it takes your starship crew a week to get from Earth to Antares in Chapter 1, but they get there in two days in Chapter 8, that will seem “unrealistic,” because you’ve broken your own invented technological rules.

This is part of the world building process. If the castle is eight miles from the village in Chapter 3 and the characters walk there in half an hour in Chapter 12, that’s breaking your own rules, too. So everything from how fast a starship can get from here to there to how far apart the city and the castle are must be consistent. And though I’m sure there are authors out there who feel they can juggle facts like that as they go along, I think the majority of us put at least a little work in up front to define the rules that are necessary for the story, especially since the clear application of those rules will effect essential plot points.

Susan: What all is involved in world building?

Philip: The map is barely scratching the surface. The term “worldbuilding” encompasses literally everything about the world your characters inhabit: political and legal structures, available technology, religious beliefs and practices, communications, flora and fauna . . . everything.

Susan: What kind of research do you do to prepare for building a world?

Philip: The amount of research you’ll end up doing and the precise nature of it will depend entirely on the setting you have in mind. If you’re creating an entirely new fantasy world from the ground up, you may not have to do much research at all–just set the rules the way you want them. You are responsible for establishing everything from the laws of physics up. But the closer you want your world to be to a real world historical period, like the various fantasy-infused versions of Japanese or Chinese history in books like Sean Russell’s The Initiate Brother, the more research you’re in for.

Otherwise, the characters and story will make certain research demands. Are your characters sailing from here to there? If so, you’ll want to know at least a little bit about how sailing ships work. Science fiction tends to demand at least a little research no matter what. The more you know about trends in science and technology, the more plausible your future universe will seem–especially if you’re writing near future SF, a post-apocalypse story, or urban/contemporary fantasy.

Susan: With a whole world to build, where do you start?

I don’t think there’s any clear step-by-step method that everyone can equally apply when it comes to sitting down to create a fantasy world. Ultimately you want to start with characters and story and then build a world to service them. If your story is heavy on political intrigue then you may want to start with building that system. If you’re writing, say, military SF you’ll want to start by defining the combatants and their available technology.

Susan: Which comes first, the world or the story?

Philip: I know a few authors who have started building a world then created characters and stories to inhabit it, but under most circumstances I really think this is allowing the tail to wag the dog. You should always start with a theme–with something to say. What are you writing about, exactly? Then build characters and plot points up from that initial goal. All writing, even the most plot-driven sword & sorcery or space opera adventure yarn, has to be about something, has to have something to say. Your world should be built to service that, not the other way around.

Susan: What’s the coolest part about designing a world?

Philip: Maybe it’s my long association with Dungeons & Dragons but I love to drawn maps. I tend to map like a madman. They help me visualize not only the world but even buildings, the interior layout of spaceships . . . anything and everything.

After that, I like the parts that surprise me. I love that moment when I’m halfway through a manuscript and realize I have to stop and figure out how something works, why one character is suspicious of another, and so on. That’s the point at which the world starts to breathe: when it makes demands of you.

Susan: What’s your least favorite part of designing a world?

Philip: I avoid things like made-up curse words like the plague. I think that if there’s something about your world you’re just not interested in, it’s most likely it's because it’s not ever actually going to come up in the story, so it’s not necessary to establish a rule for how people swear, how they go to the bathroom, and stuff like that.

Susan: How much do you develop your world before you start writing stories in it, and does your world ever change after you start writing stories in it?

Philip: You always have to give yourself permission to have a better idea. The only time you’re really stuck is when you’ve established a certain set of rules for your world, and that story or book has been published. Once it’s out there in front of readers, it’s locked in, and you’d better come up with a convincing mechanism for how that rule has changed or your readers will hate it. SF and fantasy readers are a pretty savvy and vocal group, and they can sniff out a cheat from light-years away. But as long as you’re still writing, nothing has been locked in. If you have a better idea, or need your starship to go faster or the fire spell to kill more people at a go, then do what makes your story better. Just don't forget to go back and make sure that rule is consistently applied throughout.

Susan: You’ve managed and created a number of worlds as both an editor and as an author. Which is your favorite and why?

Philip: Boy, that’s really a tough one. Right now I’m writing in the Fathomless Abyss, which I set the scene for then developed as part of a collective of authors. This is the most bizarre world I’ve ever explored as a writer and I’m loving the massive variety of elements that can exist in the Abyss, freely mixing elements of fantasy and science fiction from every sub-genre.

The world that Mel Odom and I are creating for the Arron of the Black Forest series is lots simpler, and much more open-ended. In that case, we’re only creating pieces of the world as we need them, giving ourselves the freedom to explore the wider world along with Arron as he travels through it.

The Forgotten Realms was a whole different animal, with so many elements to juggle that had been locked in through publication. For me, that was an exercise in maintaining a world rather than creating it, even when we made some major revisions in the service of fourth edition D&D.

Susan: How do you prepare to have multiple authors working in a world you’ve created?

Philip: The series/world bible is king. The first rule is: when in doubt, write it down. And this is where it’s important to have someone, an editor namely, who sits in the middle of the authors and other creatives who have a hand in the property to juggle the additions to the canon that come from new material, making sure that all those elements and all those people work together and don’t render each others’ work obsolete. It's a much more difficult role than I think most people imagine, and for a world as complex as, say, the Forgotten Realms setting, which has been around for decades and consists of literally hundreds of published sources, it’s almost impossible. I know you know what I mean, having spent some time as the FR novel line editor yourself. Mistakes were inevitable, but it’s like that old saying amongst air traffic controllers: “You land a million planes safely and no one says a word, but you have one mid-air collision and they never let you hear the end of it.”

Susan: What kinds of things do you find make worlds more difficult or easier to manage?

Philip: In general, less is always easier to manage than more. This is why I tend to advise authors to be very careful about what they add to their worlds. Do you really need a list of made-up curse words? Do you really need eighteen different kinds of elves? Does every single one of the twenty-member crew of the starship really have to be a different sort of alien? If you let your world get too big, you can easily end up with lots of boring exposition while you stop your story to explain the system of military ranks instead of just letting a sergeant be a sergeant and a general be a general. Always ask yourself: Does this worldbuilding element, whatever it is, serve my story? If not, leave it out.

Susan: Where can authors go to learn more about world building?

Philip: Well of course, I would recommend my own book, The Guide to Writing Fantasy and Science Fiction, as a good place to start. Otherwise, read, read, read, and read some more. Authors should be reading, and not only in the genre in which they write. Read non-fiction! Spend time in the library and online, researching. Learn from history and current events. Always keep your eyes and ears open for ideas.

Philip Athans is the founding partner of Athans & Associates Creative Consulting, and the New York Times best-selling author of Annihilation and a dozen other fantasy and horror books including The Guide to Writing Fantasy & Science Fiction and the recently-released The Haunting of Dragon’s Cliff and Tales From The Fathomless Abyss. Born in Rochester, New York he grew up in suburban Chicago, where he published the literary magazine Alternative Fiction & Poetry. His blog, Fantasy Author’s Handbook, is updated every Tuesday, and you can follow him on Twitter @PhilAthans. He makes his home in the foothills of the Washington Cascades, east of Seattle.

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Happy Writing!

Read more Writers Don't Cry
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Emerald City Comicon
Washington State Convention Center
800 Convention Place
Seattle, WA 98101-2350

Susan J. Morris
Sympathy for the Devil: Creating Killer Villains for Games and Books
Room: L-102
Friday, March 30^th
Time: 7:00 – 8:00 

Fascinating and devastating in their sharp suits, with their killer smiles, and their eyes that will eat you alive, villains are strong, smart, and motivated. They have that lean and hungry look. They stand alone. And say what you like about villains, but they know what they want. And that confidence is sexy.

Without the villain, there is no story. Without the villain, the heroes aren’t heroic. And without the villain, things are a lot less interesting. What is Star Wars without Darth Vader? Who is Harry Potter without Voldemort? Kick your game or book up a notch and learn the secrets behind creating killer villains with author, editor, and Amazon columnist Susan J. Morris of “Writers Don’t Cry.”

Philip Athans
The Guide to Writing Fantasy & Science Fiction
Room: 201
Friday, March 30^th
Time: 4:00 – 5:00

An informative Q&A with veteran editor and New York Times best-selling fantasy author Philip Athans, author of "The Guide to Writing Fantasy and Science Fiction". Philip will give tips for the aspiring author, and candid answers to direct questions.