In a previous life I used to be in a relationship with a woman whom I’d tell friends that she was ‘perfect’. This woman asked me not to describe her that way as it put too much pressure on her to try and live up to my description. She of course was right. Our own mothers told us so, ‘That no one is perfect. That we are all human’.
Yet many authors have a protagonist in their novels who seem to be superhuman. They want their central character to be the hero which the world has been waiting for to save us all. These are the kinds of books that only get read part way through before they are closed and put back on the shelf by bored readers.
Our protagonist needs to struggle, needs to fail time and time again as they try to resolve the central problem of the novel. Ellen Brock, YouTube presenter and novel editor does an excellent job of explaining the need for our protagonist to not be perfect. Below you will find my summary of her nine minute video on ‘How to Write a Character Flaw’. I have also provided a link at the end so that you can go directly to her video if you choose.
Years ago I was with a friend. We’d traveled to Oberlin College in Ohio to listen to a storyteller perform on stage there. We’d never seen him, but he came highly recommended. As we sat in the auditorium, a janitor came out and set a chair in the center of the stage. Then he returned with a cushion and a lamp. He plugged the lamp in and turned it on and off a few times, testing it. As he was bent over he looked out at us and gave a little wave. A few people laughed. He told us that no one ever tells him anything and he wondered why we were there. Someone called out politely that there was a storyteller who was going to perform, hopefully soon. He looked at a few people in the front row and mumbled that his father used to be a good storyteller. That when he himself was growing up, for better or worse, he was the cause of his father having stories to tell. He then apologized and said he’d be moving on as soon as the show was ready to go on. He said, ‘But there was this one time when my parents had a big party at their home and he’d ended up trapped on top of the roof’. We were five minutes into his story before we all realized that he was the story teller. (more…)
This is a brief account of the approach I took when I decided to write and self-publish a novel. What I’ll mention first is perhaps the most important part of finishing and self-publishing a novel. It is something I’d not given much attention. It is the need to manage all those things that constitute your personal life, outside of writing related matters. As of the beginning of 2017 I became a stay at home husband, retired early. I became the master of my own schedule. Now, almost a year later I am aware of how much time I’ve spent dawdling. When you are working full time and also have family, friends, and a home tossed into the equation – your schedule runs itself. Go, go, go. When you get out of that sort of cycle, there is a void present. Expectations and deadlines are no longer imposed by the exterior environment. Time management is your own job. You now have time to take care of all those personal tasks and pleasures that you couldn’t get to when life was busy. It is a daily temptation to do all sorts of things, other than your writing. I needed to learn how take my new boss (myself) seriously. I still haven’t managed to whip myself into shape in that regard. But the new year is on hand. Letting go of the old and bringing in the new. So there is hope. (more…)
It used to be that the words
would not wait.
The images came,
the words for them fell so easily
into the tips of my fingers.
But as of late,
there are few words.
To be certain,
there is no void in life,
only in the symbols for it.
It seems that for now,
I will live my images
without words attached.
Still, it is hard to let go,
hard to grieve their absence
in my life that has always
sought out labels to capture
and parade the act of being human.
It was about 10:00 pm when the car slid on the icy snow-covered road. It went sideways into oncoming traffic. State Route 82 was a busy road, even on this terrible blizzard of a night. She’d left her home only minutes earlier to go crosstown to pick up her teenage daughter’s best friend. They say she died instantly as a full-sized Oldsmobile hit her small car broadside.
She never thought she’d not be coming back home. She said no goodbyes, made no calls to those close to her. Never arranged to have her children’s future secured. Never thought of what would happen to the family business? Never was able to thank her husband for all that he’d done for her and the children. Never had a chance to reflect on the life she’d lived. (more…)