A Review on Revisions

As promised, I read over Draft Two of "My Soul to Take," made a few revisions, and here it is.

So go ahead and read that, because we're going to talk about it.

First off, my whole determination to have a proper omniscience narrator didn't really work out. The whole point of that was to explain the soul thing, because most people don't really grasp the metaphysical junk going on around them. But then Evie just says, "…it ripped something out of them. Like it tore their souls out." And boom, there we are. Souls and things that eat them. So maybe I don't need an omniscient narrator. Or maybe I'm still just no good at writing one.

Second, I have some interesting descriptions. I was trying to think outside the box and not use the same tired old phrases. Because I fall back on the same tired old phrases all the time. So I tried to get creative.

Second Time Around

Draft Two of "My Soul to Take" is, for all intents and purposes, done. And I'm pretty pleased with it. Half the time when I finish something, I just want to put it in a box, in a drawer, in a locked basement, and forget about it for a while. But this one… I like it. I'm not angry and frustrated at it.

So, some highlights.

Just past the midpoint of the story, Jake was starting to not be a total selfish asshole. He'd found a possible way out, but then Evie was in trouble, and he decided to go back and he ran in for his Big Damn Heroes moment.

So in all that, I wrote a paragraph. It was just a paragraph, to get everyone where they needed to be for the next scene. But the more I read it over, the more I like it.

The Consequences of Vagueness

Outlining is great. We’ve learned this. We can put all our plot points onto a line and see the skeleton of our story.

But it's just that. A skeleton. It doesn't have any tissue or muscle or ligaments. No juicy bits to bring the skeleton to life. That's what actual, you know, story is for. The scenes and the action and the dialogue. And that all comes later.

The problem arises when later comes and you realize you don't know what's supposed to go on this part of the skeleton.  We know the general shape of it, from the bones, but is this supposed to be a hand or a flipper or a wing? The squishy parts are unclear.

The Antihero's Journey

There's another session of Camp NaNoWriMo in July, and oh my god, I'm so excited!

That right there, that's why I keep doing NaNo. If I ever stop looking forward to it, then I guess that's when I'll stop.

So as it stands, I'm planning on doing my Subterranean Detective Romance for July. That gives me a month to finish what I'm doing and get some kind of plan going. There's a lot of research I need to do for this. I have a whole list of things I need to look into. I think I'll get into that next time.

Today, we're still working on that silly train story. I wrote about 860 more words last night, so I've nearly doubled what I already had. If we're going by my little plot arc thing, I've covered the first four plot points, and am about to reach the fifth.

It's been interesting, this antihero business. I mean, usually your heroes are… heroic. Moral and noble, albeit with their flaws. Jake Barlow is… well, he's an asshole. Also a murderer, but I feel like that's beside the point. Well, I mean, he doesn't have much of a soul, on account of all the murdering, so that probably contributes to his attitude.

That was an issue I had in the first draft. He was supposed to be this indifferent sociopath, but he came off more as just a guy who happened to kill people. I've been trying to fix that this time around.

What Day Is It? And What Year? Have I Gone Back In Time Again?

You ever stop to think about the time you're living in? How the era you grew up in shaped who you are? And how ridiculous it is that we're now living in the future and everyone has a computer in their pocket and they're using it to look at cat videos and send people pictures of their junk rather than curing cancer or developing a universal translator?

115 years ago, we couldn't get an aircraft off the ground. Less than 50 years ago, we put a guy on the moon and managed to not leave him there. Now we've got robots on Mars. That's impressive, people. Be god damn impressed.

I had a point to all this, though it's gotten away from me because I am constantly amazed that we're living in the god damn future. We take for granted the time that we're living in.

Oh. Right. Time.

That's where I was going.

The Inconvenience of Knowing Everything

And here we are again. I've had a few ideas for that crazy story that democracy has thrust upon me. But before I can get into that, I have to finish my previous project, which was rewriting "My Soul to Take," which some of you may remember as something I started last year. Then I shoved it in a box with its disappointing non-ending, and I left it there until it started to smell a little weird in the back of the closet. Then I took it out, made a valiant attempt at a plot outline/character arc, and waited for it to emerge, fully-formed.

Obvious that's not going to happen.

So I actually, finally, sat down the other day, and started writing. I'm about 800 words in. I have the first two points on my little plot mountain. It's going seemingly well.

But already, trouble lurks.

Not in the seemingly haunted mansion beside the railroad tracks. Although, yes, there also. But more importantly, in the very fiber of the story. The Fates may weave the tapestry, but are they using the right string?

Point of view. That's what I'm talking about, behind all the metaphors.

The Story That Never Starts

The other day, one of my readers commented about using a more fluid index card/storyboard way of outlining. So I thought I'd try something a little more freeform. Now, I do everything on the computer. Otherwise, I have all these pieces of paper floating around. So here’s what I did.

I wrote, each in their own text box so I could move them, all the events that needed to happen. And then I rearranged them into an order that made sense. Then I added some more text boxes that describe the characters state of mind. In this particular story, it's whether or not he cares about things.

Then, once I had them arranged the way I liked, I headed on over to PowerPoint to make a visual. In a perfect world, I'd use Publisher or maybe InDesign if I was feeling fancy. But PowerPoint is what I have on my tablet.

Redeemable, Like a Coupon

There's still about a week left to vote on the genre of my next project. As it stands, it's tied, which means I'll have to combine the winning genres. And honestly, I'm kind of excited about the prospect.

As for the current project, well…

I haven't finished outlining it yet. What have I been doing all this time, you ask? I don't know. Not outlining, I guess. Motivation is still something I'm working on. The whole getting up and writing every day thing.

So the point in the character arc outline thing where I left off is the point of the story where the character goes on the offensive. He should try to defeat the antagonist (in this case a soul-gobbling entity), and he should fail. Then some other stuff should happen, some more information is learned, and then the final battle, so to speak. Whatever is going to happen is going to happen here. In this case, perhaps the entity remains undefeated, but the character succeeds in saving the Girl.  And then the aftermath of that.

A Puzzle Where the Pieces Don't Fit

I'm going to warn you up front. I just took some cold medicine. Like, the liquid kind that's 10% alcohol. I'm not sure when it going to kick in. Things could get… interesting.

There's still a poll over there on the right. Cast a vote! Influence my future! I guess if there's a tie, I'll have to combine the genres. I honestly didn't think of that possibility until now.

Anyway, that's not what we’re here for. We're here for…

Character arcs!

Rediscovering a Story

Well, Camp NaNo has come to an end. For April, anyway. We'll be back at it in July or whenever the next one is. So what's next?

Now, it might seem from my cavalier attitude that I just toss projects aside as I finish them. Oh, there's a rough draft down, let's bin it and move on. That's not exactly true. I do set them aside when they're "done." For distance. For space. We need some time apart, so I'll let it stew on the hard drive while I run around with other plots. But I'll come back. Eventually.

If you've been here since the beginning, or you've recently binged the old posts, you might remember a post series called Finding a Story. You can read Part One here or see all the posts in the series here. Basically, I took a story prompt and went bit by bit walked through the process of turning that into a story.

Finding a Story, Part Nine

Parts One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, and Eight

For better or worse, this is the last part of this series. We've seen a story go from a prompt to a full-fledged rough draft. You might say, "I've seen no such rough draft!" Relax. Keep reading. And as you take in this masterpiece (read: train wreck), you might realize that there is a mountain of problems with characters, pacing, etc. More than likely, the portal they have wandered through is a giant, gaping plot hole.

But this is what I keep trying to tell everyone. No rough draft is perfect and publishable. Some rough drafts are so rough that 90% of it has to be scrapped to make it even readable. Coming up with a plot that barely works is hard enough. Turning that into a plot that actually works is a whole other kettle of onions.

There is one thing that I'm particularly proud of, and I'm going to point it out now, in case it's not clear when you read it. When Jake talks about his crimes (all the murdering), he says "I," as in "I killed all those people." But when he talks about his first kill, which happened in wartime and was not technically murder, he says "you" like the hypothetical general "you." While he seems to feel little to no remorse over the other crimes, he subconsciously distances himself from that first one. I think a lot of my super clever moments are subtle and easily missed, so I wanted to make sure that this was noticed.

At the moment I'm leaving the story on a cliffhanger. Not because I'm evil (well, maybe that) but because any ending I can come up with just feels like a letdown after this. Please feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments.

I know there are some things that need to be fixed or added. The time period and backstory exist in my head, but didn't make it to the page very well. I'm sure I've mentioned how terrible I am at exposition before. It's something I'm working on. Anyway, it's a rough first draft. At some point in the future I will go back and fix it. I have to let it stew for a while, and wait for me to forget how it goes, so I can look at it with fresh eyes.

But enough talk. Here it is. I've even given it a name finally: My Soul to Take.

Finding a Story, Part Eight

Parts One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, and Seven

There is a certain point in most of my time-constrained stories, and we have just reached it. It's the point where I realize that I took a wrong turn somewhere, and I have to backtrack to a point in the story where it still made sense, and take a new path from there. It’s like a choose your own adventure story, except instead of ending in your horrible demise, the bad endings just drive the plot into the ground and leave it there to writhe in pain. We slowly back away from those versions, and try to find a better path.

The dialogue is the real issue right now. People can't seem to decide what they know and what they don't. I think the problem is that instead of having action with some supporting dialogue, the characters basically sat down and chatted. It's not working. Not at all.

Last week I shared an excerpt, and I think somewhere around the end of that is where things started to go wrong. There is a piece of dialogue that I liked, but I don't think I worked it in very well. Normally I don't edit until after I'm done, but sometimes you have to make a preventative amputation. Otherwise, this terrible plot direction is going to fester and kill the whole story.

So this is a bit of a setback, but it’s all a part of the process.

After reviewing the story, it looks like I'm only backing up about half a page. While this seems like a good thing, it also means I haven't really accomplished much lately. But I'm determined to finish this thing in the next week, so I really need to sit down and get it done.

So here is the plan. I have a few plot points that I need to hit, so I need to work out an outline. Once I have a skeleton, I can put some meat on those bones and fill in the blanks.

I know everyone is probably tired of hearing about this story. I'm right there with you. But, I said I would write it, so I'm going to write it. It will all be over, for better or worse, by next week. Then we can finally move on to something else.

Finding a Story, Part Seven

Parts One, Two, Three, Four, Five, and Six

I apologize for the lateness of this post. It’s been a busy week.

Anyway, getting down to business, I think we're going to talk about secrets today. Personally, I think there's a right way and a wrong way for characters to be keeping things from each other. What I would consider the wrong way is the willful failure to communicate. This is where the whole conflict of the piece arises when someone neglects to tell someone else a key piece of information. And by sharing that information, the whole thing could have been avoided. "But then there wouldn't be a story!" you might exclaim. That is true. But it would force the writer to come up with something better to drive the plot.

This will come back around to the story at hand, I promise.

The willful failure to communicate is not a new phenomenon. It's the basis for the story of Oedipus. See, when he was born, his parents were told that he was destined to kill his father and marry his mother. Well, they wanted none of that, so they sent him away to be killed. Long story short, he ended up being adopted instead. One day, after he had grown up, he learned the same prophecy. So he ran away from the city of his adoptive parents, and wound up killing his biological father and marrying his biological mother. Now, if he had mentioned the prophecy to his adopted parents before running off, they could have said, "Chill, we're not your real parents," the whole thing could have been avoided, and Freud would have nothing to talk about.

The point is, I don't think this is an effective use of secrets in fiction. If someone's going to be keeping secrets, you don't want the audience to be yelling, "Just tell them already!" the entire time. You want them to be concerned about what might happen if the secret comes out.

How does this relate to our story in progress? Well, Jake's keeping secrets from his newfound companion. Namely, that he's a notorious killer. Here, I'll just show you. This picks up immediately after our last excerpt.

An overwhelming sense of dread came over him. He bolted for the front door. Outside, he wondered what he, of all people, would be so afraid of. But he didn’t stop running. He reached the train, vaulted over the coupling between two cars, and dove behind a car on the other side.

“What the hell am I doing?” he asked. There was no reason to think that he’d be any safer here.

Something crunched in the gravel under the train car. Taking a deep breath, he reached around the wheels and dragged it out. Whatever it was punched him in the nose, forcing him to drop it.

“Who are you? What do you want?” it asked.

Jake blinked a few times. It was a girl, somewhere between fifteen and twenty. She scurried away from him and tried to climb back under the car.

He grabbed her ankle and dragged her back out. “Relax, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Sorry I can’t say the same,” she said, kicking him.

“Who are you?” he asked. “What the hell is this place?”

“I was hoping you knew,” she replied.

This conversation was getting nowhere. He sighed and extended a hand. “Jake.”

She stared at his hand for a minute and apprehensively took it. “Evie.”

“All right, now we’re getting somewhere. How long have you been here?”

“Not long. I heard someone coming, so I hid. You?”

He looked around the train car and back at the mansion. “Maybe an hour. Maybe two.” He looked back at her. She was staring. “What?” he asked.

“You look familiar. We haven’t met before, have we?”

“Not likely. Maybe you’ve seen one of my posters.”

“Are you famous or something?”

He looked down. “In a manner of speaking.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Never mind. Forget it,” he said.

The question all this raises is, if he didn’t want her to know who he was, why mention the posters? Up until now, he didn't have a soul. Why would he care if she knew? For starters, she would be decidedly less cooperative if she knew who he was. As for the posters, I think he assumed that things were already going downhill when she almost recognized him. But then his half-admission of notoriety didn’t spark anything, and so he backtracked.

Why do I sound so unsure when I'm the one writing it? I have very little control over these people. For the most part, they do what they want and I just follow them around and write it down.

The point of all this is that Jake has a secret that he foolishly almost let slip. He doesn't know it yet, but saving this girl is going to be his salvation. How is she going to feel about that if she finds out who he really is? Stay tuned, I guess.

Finding a Story, Part Six

Parts One, Two, Three, Four, and Five

Actual writing of the story has finally commenced. It's time to throw this thing into gear. Some things have happened. No one has died yet. Well, actually, several people have died. But they were off-screen, or off-page, as it were. We assume they're dead. They've disappeared without a trace. Nothing good could have become of them.

Jake has done some exploring, and even made a friend. Well, friend might not be the right word, but an acquaintance at least. Her name is Evie, and she has a story of her own, that we (and Jake) are going to have to figure out. Who is she? What is she doing here? Why hasn't she disappeared like all the others.

I had a question posed to me on last week's article about Jake's goals and whether regaining his soul was one of them. And I don't think it is. At this point, he's just a guy who has murdered seven (or eight, depending on who you ask) people. He doesn't realize that his soul is gone, and as such is in no hurry to get it back. His first objective, I would say, is survival. He wants to get out of this place alive. Along the way, maybe he wants to help Evie. Maybe he wants to figure out what is happening in this place. Regaining his soul is merely a byproduct.

So then the question becomes: why would he want to help Evie, since he's a bad guy and all? The answer is that he isn't completely devoid of a soul. One itty bitty fragment remains. And that might be enough to get him to do the right thing. In my mind, he still has standards regarding acceptable murdering targets. He might kill a full grown man who looks at him funny, but he wouldn't kill a child. That tiny fragment prevents him from doing so. Evie is a young, defenseless woman, and so does not fall under the banner of acceptable targets. If this all seems a bit convenient, maybe it is. But that's how the story goes. I'm sure it will sound better when it's all written out.

But now, the moment you've probably all been waiting for since I started work on this story: an actual piece of story. This is an excerpt taken from the middle of what I have. It introduces some information and (I hope) sets the tone for what is to come. This is, of course, a work in progress, so it's not going to be perfect.

The front door creaked as he pushed it open. He stepped into a massive foyer from which three hallways branched off to the right, left, and straight ahead. A grand staircase forked down on either side of the central corridor. Standing still in the room, he listened. Nothing.

A heavy thud behind him made him jump. The door had swung shut of its own volition, plunging him into shadow. High windows above the door illuminated the staircase, but the light did not reach to the floor.

He headed down the central hallway, passing statues and pieces of furniture, all draped with white cloths. At each door he came upon, he tried the handle, but found them all locked. Four doors, three tables, two chairs, four statues. Nothing particularly interesting. The hallway ended at a T-junction. Jake took the left path. It circled around, past more locked doors, and ended back in the foyer. It was safe to say that the hallway on the right would do the same.

Upstairs it was, then. At the first door on the left, he went to try the knob. The door drifted open at the contact. Inside was some kind of library, with bookshelves lining the walls. A desk sat in center of the room, with various objects strewn across it. The thing that caught Jake’s eye was thick book with papers and things jutting out of it. He thumbed through the pages. It was some kind of scrapbook, but there didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to the entries. One page held a family photograph, another held a yellowed newspaper clipping. The collection was all different people from different places and different years. Jake turned the page to a photograph of a woman and a familiar looking man. It took him a minute before he recognized the ruddy-faced guard from the train. A page later was a wanted poster. His own wanted poster. It wasn’t attached to the page like the others, instead it was just shoved in hastily. Angrily.

Jake smoothed out the corners of the page. “$500 Reward,” it said in big, enticing letters. Below that, once it had everyone’s attention, “Jacob Barlow, wanted for seven counts of murder.” The accompanying photograph was not the most flattering.

He slammed the book shut. Somewhere behind him, something moved.

He froze and warily looked back toward the door. Nothing. Leaning out into the hall, he thought he heard it again. From somewhere downstairs.

As quietly as possibly, he crept down the staircase. There was no sign of anyone. He walked halfway down the central corridor. Four doors, three tables, two chairs, three statues.

He stopped.

Three statues.

That's all you're getting for now. Feel free to comment and let me know what you think. All of you. I know you're out there, don't be shy.

Finding a Story, Part Five

Parts One, Two, Three, and Four

I had a very enlightening conversation at work last week. My very helpful coworker (you know who you are) and I started hashing out where the story might be headed. Probably the most critical discovery was that Jake Barlow, our hero (such as he is), is not alone in this world. Somehow, some other person has managed to evade the Evil that resides in this world. And they are still in possession of a nice tasty soul. And ol' Jake just might get an opportunity to regain his own soul.

Also, somewhere between Monday and Tuesday, I had the realization that Jake had been a soldier in WWI. With that thought came several others, namely, that this was the circumstance of his first kill. So, not murder in the strictest sense, but the violent killing of a dude right in front of you is bound  to mess you up a bit. So, after months of shooting from the trenches in the vague direction of the enemy, he finds himself in very close proximity to a guy bent on killing him, and Jake has no choice but to stab him in the throat. These things happen. While technically being self-defense in the midst of a war, it still changes a man, puts a crack in his soul.

Other men could have walked away from this and come home with their sense of morality intact. Not so for Jake Barlow. He only went downhill. He made it home, tried to reintegrate into civilian life. But he never quite fit. And then the murdering began.

Now, all this information is probably only going to be vaguely alluded to come story time. It's not the kind of thing I spell out for the reader but I know it in the back of my mind. It informs who the character has become when we first meet him on that train. He has a past, even if we don't see it.

Honestly, I think I probably have enough to start writing. There are still some unanswered questions, but we can fill in the answers along the way. I'm not sure at this point if the next post in the series will be next Tuesday or Friday. It depends on whether I have something else for Tuesday. I'm considering continuing this series on Fridays, with one-off posts on Tuesdays.

As always, comment, subscribe, do what you will.

Finding a Story, Part Four

Parts One, Two, and Three

Well, our criminal protagonist has a name now, so that's good news. Jacob "Jake" Barlow was born in roughly 1890, and found himself on a prison train in the mid 1930's (on account of all the murdering). So I guess today we’re going to talk about naming characters.

There is a process for this whole naming business. Sometimes the names just show up in my head, but usually I have to go find them. Typically the process for first names is to go to behindthename.com, and look up the most popular names for the year the character was born. I don't write fantasy, so I don't need weird elf names or anything. This time around, I also looked at this list of Depression-era outlaws.

If I don't have a last name in mind, behindthename has a sister site for surnames, and I'll usually browse names by whatever ethnic background the character has (in this case, English). It's a very scientific process, wherein I go through lists of names until I find a pair of first and last names that sound good together. I have a whole list of mental rules that I go by revolving around a balance of vowel sounds and ban on alliterative names (averted once with Albert Armstrong, and he got assassinated).

That of course leaves the question of how I determined when Jake Barlow was born. Long story short, I can picture the guy. Long story slightly longer, because I'm a visual person when it comes to these things, I imagine each of my stories as a movie that plays in my head, and I just write down what I see. What movie would be complete without a cast of characters, so I cast the principal parts for my mental movie, and that tends to answer those pesky questions like how old someone is and what they look like. So, that's how I can tell you that Jake Barlow is in his mid-40s. I could also tell you that he was born in Australia, but emigrated to the US long enough ago to lose about half his accent, but that's neither here nor there.

A side thought about names:

I have, on various occasions, given characters names that were somehow meaningful, like the meaning of their name somehow described them. The best example of this was a story I wrote a couple of years ago about a circus whose members were supernaturally trapped there. It featured a pair of conjoined twins, named Thomas (meaning "twin") and Levi (meaning "attached"). I've spent the past two years thinking I'm hilarious for a joke no one was ever going to notice. Not that I'm a stranger to making inside jokes with myself.

That's all I have for this installment. I'm actually writing this ahead of time and scheduling it to post in the future, so hopefully I won't be so long in updating next time.

Once again, comment if you like, and consider joining the email mailing list. Each new post will be conveniently delivered to your inbox.

Finding a Story, Part Three

Part One

Part Two

I do apologize for taking so long to update. It's taken this long to come up with enough to write home about.

Let's review the prompt:

You're shackled to a ball and chain in a train bound for prison. When the train stops you find yourself in front of a large brick mansion instead of the prison. The train has been abandoned.

The saga continues as I search for my elusive main character. I now have some scribblings on a piece of notebook paper that I started during Microeconomics. I have also realized that I have neglected to mention a critical part of this planning process: OneNote. It comes with most versions of Microsoft Office, but I feel like it's the so-called red-headed stepchild of the suite. What I mean to say is that a lot of people have it, but I don't think that many use it. Me, I have folders and subfolders full of pages and subpages. I have all of my ideas sorted into categories, and I will usually start a page for each story I'm working on. I’ll then add subpages for individual characters, locations, etc., as needed. I haven't at this moment started one for the train story, but I probably will by the time I post this. I'm actually writing this in OneNote, and I'll copy/paste it into Blogger when it's done.

Anyway, I've been doing some pondering about my criminal protagonist. What kind of man is he? What are his flaws, and his redeeming qualities? What kind of world did he come from? What made him the way he is when we meet him on that train.

Well, here are the facts:

• He is a killer, with victims numbering in the severals (6-8 probably).
• He didn't always lack a soul, but lost it piece by piece.
• In the case of his first victim, there were some kind of extenuating circumstances (yet to be determined), rather than just a random murder for the fun of it. This act caused a crack in his soul.
• Subsequent murders broke off more pieces, causing each subsequent murder to be easier than the previous, like a declining marginal cost of conscience (see, I was paying attention in Microeconomics).
• He probably still has some standards for who he will or won’t kill. Maybe he's one remaining soul shard away from becoming a complete monster.
• The story takes place sometime in the 1930's, and that is the world our protagonist comes from.

This is all I know for right now, so I'll go ahead and post it. If you have any questions about the story, the character, the setting, whatever, feel free to leave a comment below.

Finding a Story, Part Two

Read Part One here.

 

I have here probably the best example of how story construction works for me. I went into the bathroom to take out my contacts, and walked out declaring, "Maybe it's a portal." It's a well-known fact that all the best thoughts are thought in the bathroom. Maybe it's the inherent lack of things to write with.

This restroom revelation addresses the question of "Where did everyone go?" Well, maybe our train has passed through a portal into some other realm, and our protagonist was the only one invited. Now, there's maybe a 60% chance that this thought will have nothing to do with the final story. Many paths are explored before one is followed to the end.

This could become an afterlife/final judgement kind of tale where the protagonist was really dead all along and this is some sort of purgatorial prison. References to various parts of the Greek Underworld and all that. This story could go that way, but it won't. I've done basically that already, so it would just feel like an easy and cheap way out.

I'm thinking we need to go a little more horror with this one. The Langoliers comes to mind. Everyone's gone and something is quite amiss. And a guy that makes me think of weasels. It's been a while since I've seen that movie.

At this point, a more rational and considerate blogger might stop to apologize for the tangents. You'll find no such contrition here. You're in my head now. It's a labyrinth and there's no street signs. What I'm trying to say is that this is all a part of the process. One thought leads to another, which leads to fifteen other completely unrelated thoughts. And sometimes a story falls out.

In this case, it's a story about a prisoner on a train, who finds himself suddenly alone in front of a mansion.

Right now I mostly just have a vibe. It's like an inaudible tone at 19Hz, and you find yourself with an inexplicable feeling of dread. I have the image in my head of a boxcar door sliding open. Outside and set back from the tracks is a dismal grey mansion. The sky is overcast, and it has been raining. The rain has stopped, and once the door stops moving, there is no sound.

I asked myself what kind of character would be in this story. He's obviously a criminal, being shackled and bound for prison as he is. The question was then: what was his crime? Was it a minor offense? Was he perhaps wrongfully accused? Does he need to be a "good guy" in order for us to be drawn into his story?

Upon asking these questions, I stared off into space, as this is my patented planning technique. And then I abruptly answered most of them with "No." Maybe he's not a straight-laced guy who made a few bad choices. Maybe he's a murderer. Maybe whatever evil exists in this world feeds off of souls. And maybe he doesn't have one.

We're going to leave it at that for today, or this post will go on forever.

Finding a Story, Part One

Since I spent all of last week trying to think of a clever blog name, I don't have any writing progress to share. So I'm going to go on an adventure. And you’re coming with me.

I have tons of ideas for stories and things, from various sources. One such source is the Writing Prompts subreddit. I have a huge list of prompts that appealed to me, stowed away for future use. Every so often, I'll look back through the list to see if anything jumps out at me. The other day, one did.

You're shackled to a ball and chain in a train bound for prison. When the train stops you find yourself in front of a large brick mansion instead of the prison. The train has been abandoned.

So today, and probably later this week, I'm going to invite you to witness the process that turns an idea into a story. The faint of heart may want to turn away now.

We begin with the idea. My next step is usually to ask some questions.

• What was your crime?
• Where did everyone go?
• Why were you left behind?
• What's in the mansion?

I don't have answers to these questions, not yet. The point is to start thinking about the idea and expanding on it. We need to know what kind of world we're dealing with, and what sort of character we're following before we can get much further. This part of the process can take an hour, or a year. We're hoping for the former in this case.

This is where I'm going to leave you for today. It's an unsatisfying ending, I know, but that's how a journey works. You can’t just skip to the end. When I have some answers to my questions, I'll be back.