Randy Ingermanson's Blog: Advanced Fiction Writing

When I’m writing a novel, one thing I’ve got to have is a Scene List. Without one, I’m lost. With one, I always know what to write next, which massively boosts my motivation to sit down and actually write. And a lot of other novelists also need a Scene List. 

And yes, there are plenty of writers who just write by the seat of their pants. They don’t need a Scene List. They just write. I have no problem with them. I don’t believe they are “doing it wrong”. They’re working the way their brains are wired. 

Different writers are different. There’s no moral high ground here. If your brain is wired to use a Scene List, then use one. If it isn’t, then don’t. Simple as that. 

What is a Scene List?

A Scene List is not “just a list of scenes.” It’s a list of story ideas. Because every Scene is a story. (This is a point I make several times in my best-selling book How to Write a Dynamite Scene Using the Snowflake Method, which walks you through the process of writing a scene.)

When I add a Scene to a Scene List, I focus on three basic aspects of that Scene. If it’s a Proactive Scene, I want to know the lead character’s goal at the beginning of the Scene, the conflicts that prevent them from reaching the goal, and the setback at the end of the Scene, if there is a setback. If it’s a Reactive Scene, I spell out the lead character’s emotional reaction to the setback from a previous Scene, followed by the dilemma they need to work through, and ending with a decision on what they’ll do next.

If you’ve worked out those basic elements for every Scene, then each one is guaranteed to be a story. It’s not guaranteed to be a good story. It’s not guaranteed to fit in with the rest of your novel. And it’s not guaranteed to go the way you planned. When you actually write a Scene, you’re in a different place than you were when you planned it, and the Scene may take an unexpected turn. In fact, it probably will. Writing a novel is not like turning a crank and getting noodles out of a machine. Writing a novel is a creative process, and weird stuff is going to happen, and that’s OK. 

How Do You Create a Scene List?

Before writers used computers, they often made Scene Lists by writing out ideas on 3×5 cards. Then they could spread the cards out on the table and move them around until the order seemed to fit. If they wanted to change things later, they just moved cards around, or added cards, or took them out, or scrawled more stuff on them. 

When I started writing, most writers had computers with spreadsheet programs. So I wrote a few novels where I made Scene Lists using Excel. Then every Scene was one row in the spreadsheet, and I could easily move Scenes around or delete them or insert new ones or edit them. 

Later on, I created a wildly popular program called Snowflake Pro that had a tool for making a Scene List as the eighth step in the Snowflake Method that I invented. A lot of writers still use this program, and I hear from them occasionally by email. Snowflake Pro works and it gets the job done, but at a certain point in my life, I decided that I couldn’t continue to support it, so I worked with Cameron Sutter, the programmer who developed Plottr, to add several templates for the Snowflake Method to his software. Plottr has some very nice graphical tools for creating Scene Lists. (And for those who prefer the simplicity of Snowflake Pro, it’s still available on my website and it still works. I just don’t plan on making any updates.)

How Do You Use a Scene List?

I’ll repeat what I said earlier. Some writers don’t need a Scene List, and those writers should not use one. But if you’re one of those writers who is wired to need one, then here are some tips that I’ve found useful:

Remember that your Scene List is provisional. You can change it at any time. Your story is not fixed in stone, it’s a living thing that will grow as you write it.If you feel a need to write your Scenes in order, then do so. Your brain is wired to write them in order, and you’ll get in trouble if you write them out of order. If you feel a need to write the next Scene that’s calling your name, then write it, even if it’s not the next Scene in your Scene List. Your brain is wired to develop your story in the order of the Scenes that are emotively strongest. You’ll get in trouble if you try to write them strictly in the order they appear in your Scene List. When you sit down to write a Scene in your Scene List, ask yourself first if your notes for that Scene are enough to make a story. If not, then jot down more notes until you know the beginning, middle, and end of the Scene. Then write the Scene, and try to get it all done in one session. (You don’t have to, but I promised to tell you what works for me. Your mileage may vary.)If you find your novel drifting away from the story you envisioned when you wrote the Scene List, you may find it helpful to make a new draft of your novel, even if you haven’t finished the draft you’re working on. I typically name each draft of my novel with the very clever names “Draft 1”, “Draft 2”, etc. Each draft goes in a different folder on my computer. When I realize that the story has drifted significantly away from the vision in my Scene List, I create a new folder for the next draft, make copies of all the files in the folder I was working on, and then edit those copies in the new folder, starting with the Scene List.How Do You Know if You Should Use a Scene List?

If the above discussion of a Scene List has aroused in you a desire to make a Scene List, then your brain is probably wired to need one. Try making a Scene List and see if your life improves. You can always throw it away if it disimproves your life. 

If the thought of making a Scene List causes you to have violent thoughts against me or humanity in general or yourself in particular, then your brain is probably wired to not need one. Don’t make a Scene List. Instead, write your novel your way. You will still find the above discussion useful, because you undoubtedly know other novelists, and some of them will need Scene Lists, and now you know enough to talk intelligently about their writing process. I hope you can each give the other person the respect they deserve as writers, even if you use radically different processes.

HomeworkDo you need a Scene List in order to write a novel?If so, do you already have a Scene List? If not, is today a good to start making a Scene List? 

The post Your Scene List appeared first on Advanced Fiction Writing.

If you’re writing a novel for a 21st-century reader, you have one job—to create a movie in your reader’s brain. 

Modern readers love movies. But they read because the movie you create inside their brain is somehow more real to them than a movie on a screen. Because they help to create it. Your novel is the raw material your reader uses to create their own personal movie. 

Why Not Write a Classic Novel?

One mistake a lot of beginning writers make is to write a novel like Jane Austen would have written. Or Charles Dickens. Or Fyodor Dostoevsky. 

These were all great writers, yes. But they were writing with a different purpose—to create a storyteller in their reader’s brain. And it worked. If you read a classic novel written in the 19th century, you’ll hear a storyteller in your brain. But you won’t see a movie in your brain. You’ll see some clips of a movie, yes, but those clips will be interspersed with still-life paintings, essays, and audio voiceover by the author. The exact mix will depend on the 19th-century author. 

But 21st-century readers want more movie clips, fewer paintings, fewer essays, fewer voiceovers. They just do. 

If you feel called to write a classic novel for a 19th-century reader, feel free to do so. But those readers are dead, and that’s a marketing problem you’ll need to face. 

How Do You Create That Movie?

The way you create a movie in your reader’s brain is to focus on the one thing that’s happening now that you can show your reader. Your are creating a sequence of words. Your reader will read them in the order you write them. Your reader can’t read two paragraphs at once. Your reader can’t even read two sentences at once. 

Your reader reads sentences one at a time, and each sentence (with rare exceptions) needs to be showing something that can happen in approximately the length of time that it takes to read the sentence. The key word here is “approximate”. If it takes three seconds to read it, and it’s half a second of action, that’s fine. Or if it’s ten seconds of action, also fine. Sentences like that are called “Immediate Scene” and they are the lifeblood of your novel.

But a sentence has lost its way if it shows something that would take ten minutes to play out in real life. When your editor scrawls “Show, Don’t Tell” in red letters on your manuscript, they’re talking about sentences like that. 

A Word About Narrative Summary

Once in a while, you do need a few sentences of “glue” between scenes to move things forward by minutes or months or millennia. Those sentences are called “narrative summary” and every novel needs them, once in a while. But narrative summary is not a movie in your reader’s brain. It’s voiceover or it’s a jump-cut between scenes. 

When you’re editing your novel, you’ll always find some narrative summary. Just ask yourself if you need it. Could you write the novel without it? If you took it out, or shortened it, or rewrote it as immediate scene, would the novel be stronger? 

If the answer is yes, then pull out the long knives and slit its throat and throw it to the sharks. That bit of narrative summary is pulling the whole boat underwater. 

If the answer is no, you can’t possibly cut the narrative summary in any way, then leave it in. That bit of narrative summary is punching above its weight and deserves to live.

A Word About “The Rules of Fiction Writing”

From time to time, you’ll find all sorts of lists of “rules” that purport to tell you how to write a novel. Those rules can seem silly and overbearing. You will easily be able to think of exceptions to any of those rules. 

None of the rules that I’ve ever seen are ironclad. Every rule can be broken, if there’s a reason. 

But whoever concocted those rules had a reason, and you now know the reason. The “rules of fiction writing” are designed to help you create a movie in your reader’s brain.

Any “rule” that doesn’t help you create a movie in your reader’s brain is probably not a very good rule. (Again, there are probably exceptions.)

Any “rule” that does help you create a movie in your reader’s brain is probably a useful rule. Use it when it applies. Ignore it when it doesn’t. 

HomeworkDo you have your own set of “rules” that you use for fiction writing? Which of these help you create a movie in your reader’s brain? Which of them don’t? Do you have a scene that isn’t working? Read it and ask yourself how long each sentence would take to play out as a movie clip. Does that give you any insight into how to bring that scene to life?

The post The Movie in Your Reader’s Brain appeared first on Advanced Fiction Writing.

Writer’s block is real, but there’s a way to fix it. You can break it in about ten minutes, or fifteen if you’re a slow typist. I’m making one assumption here, but I think the assumption is correct. 

I’m assuming that if you have writer’s block, it’s because you’re afraid of something. Maybe you’re afraid the scene you’re working on won’t go anywhere. Or that it will go somewhere, but it’s the wrong direction. Or worst of all, that it will just be a bad idea.

If fear is the cause of your writer’s block, then try this. 

Write yourself a really long sentence (like maybe a 500-word sentence). Make it the worst sentence ever. In fact, begin the sentence with the words, “This is a really bad idea, but I’m going to write a scene in which _____________”

Now fill in that blank with a really bad idea. Something extremely stupid. Something that could never happen. And just keep rolling. Type as fast as you can. You have literally nothing to lose, because you already acknowledged it’s a bad idea. Just keep going, and make it ridiculous. Make it absurd. Don’t end the sentence. Instead of typing a period, type a comma, followed by the word “and” or “but” or “so” or whatever crazy fool thing comes into your head. 

Then What Do You Do?

When you’ve finished that horrible, crazy, stupid sentence, stop for a minute. Look at the thing. And see if it gives you a better idea. It probably will. Nothing jogs ideas like writing. The very act of writing gets your creative juices flowing, leading to more ideas. And those ideas will almost certainly be better than the one you started with, because you intentionally started with a bad idea, so you have nowhere to go but up.

Now pick one of those ideas and run with it. If you’re not sure it’s a good idea, start out with the words, “This is probably not such a great idea, but I’m going to write a scene in which __________.”

Now fill in that blank and write yourself a scene. Even if it starts out not great, it will probably get better as you go along. Write that scene in a blind fury. Don’t stop to fix your spelling. You can edit the beast tomorrow. Or you can throw it away tomorrow if it’s really not any good. But it will probably be something decent. And once you have something decent, you can always improve on it.

It’s just a law of nature. Bad ideas lead to good ideas. Bad writing leads to good writing. 

Try it and see. I think you’ll find that this is a really good idea.

The post This is a Really Bad Idea, But… appeared first on Advanced Fiction Writing.

If there’s one step in my wildly popular Snowflake Method that hardly anyone seems to care about, it’s Step 5—Character Synopses. I find this odd, because this step has been my secret weapon for the last thirty years in writing winning book proposals. 

No kidding. Character synopses are the one thing that can turn a really good proposal into an “oh-my-gosh-I-can’t-possibly-reject-this” proposal. 

You might be thinking that synopses are boring, and you’re right if you mean plot synopses. Every novel proposal ever written contains a very boring plot synopsis. It’s typically around 2 pages, single-spaced, which adds up to about 1000 words of pure torture. I have never read a single plot synopsis that made me want to read the novel. Ever. 

But a character synopsis is not a plot synopsis. This ought to be obvious, but since so many people confuse the two, I might as well explain the difference.

Plot Synopses versus Character Synopses

A plot synopsis covers the main events in your novel. It’s supposed to sketch out the storyline of the whole 100,000 word novel, so it races along from one “exciting” event to the next. Fiery car crashes or sizzling bed-rumpling scenes or terrifying zombalypses, or whatever it is that makes your story exciting.

And the problem with all these sizzling events is that the reader doesn’t care about them. Nobody cares about a car crash until they know that driver in the car. Nobody cares about thunderbolts in the bedroom until they know that naked person in the bed. And a plot synopsis can’t give you that. So you read the synopsis and you don’t care. Because you can’t. 

A character synopsis focuses on one of the major characters in your novel. What does she want? What does he desperately need? What do they obsess about when they wake up at 3 AM and can’t get back to sleep because of __________? When you fill in that blank, you know what makes your character tick. And so does the person reading your character synopsis. 

But a great novel proposal doesn’t contain just one character synopsis. It contains several. And here’s the secret sauce that puts the fire in your editor’s pants—a great novel proposal chains together several character synopses, one for each of the major characters. One synopsis may focus on the early part of the story. The next may focus on the middle part. The next may focus on the ending. When you do that, you tell the whole story, but it now feels character-oriented, rather than plot-oriented. And editors love characters. 

One last secret, and then I’ll illustrate all this with an example. The secret is this—you’re allowed to tell stuff in your character synopses that may not actually be in the novel. It might tell what happened before the story begins. It might tell what happens after the story ends, or at least hint at it. 

But enough theory. An example is worth a thousand words. Actually, this example will probably end up being a thousand words, so maybe you’ll decide it’s worth a million words. I’m going to give you three character synopses for the novel The Hunger Games. If you’re one of the few people on the planet who hasn’t read the book, then spoiler alert—there will be a lot of spoilers here. So go read the book first. It’s brilliant. 

I’ll chain together character synopses for three of the major characters in The Hunger Games. Peeta’s synopsis will focus on the beginning of the story. Katniss’s will focus on the middle. And Haymitch’s will focus on the ending. I could have done them in any order, but this is the one I chose after thinking about it for five seconds.

Peeta Mellark

Peeta Mellark has a problem. He’s in love with a girl who barely knows he exists. Peeta lives in a grimy town in District 12. He’s the baker’s son, so he actually has almost enough to eat, unlike most people in his District. The girl he’s been in love with since the age of 5 is not so lucky. Her father’s dead, and her’s mother’s pretty useless, so her family ought to have starved to death long ago. But Katniss Everdeen is one amazing girl who illegally hunts and forages in the forest to put food on the table. 

Then the unthinkable happens. Katniss’s younger sister’s name is drawn to go as a “tribute” to the Hunger Games. Katniss volunteers to take her place, saving her sister from certain death in the Arena. Peeta knows Katniss is tough, but there will be 23 other tributes in the Hunger Games, and only one will get out alive. Peeta would willingly die to get Katniss out of the Games, but that’s just not possible. A boy can’t volunteer to replace a girl. 

Moments later, Peeta’s name is drawn as the second tribute from District 12. Now Peeta’s in shock. He’s a big, strong guy, but he has absolutely no killer instinct. When push comes to shove in the Arena, he’s going to be killed by one of the brutes from District 1, or District 2, or District 4. Those kids are trained killers who actually volunteer for the honor of competing in the Hunger Games. Peeta knows he will never live to see his 18th birthday. 

But there’s one thing he can do to make this thing better. He can never make it good, because there isn’t any good way out of the crucible. But he can make it less horrible.

Peeta Mellark is going to be the guardian angel for Katniss in the Arena. She won’t know it. Not while she’s in the Arena. Not until it’s too late. But after he’s dead, after the Games are over, when they show the whole gory replay on TV, Katniss will know that Peeta Mellark loved her and gave his life to save hers. And that will make Peeta’s death bearable. 

Katniss Everdeen

Katniss Everdeen cannot believe she’s going to the Hunger Games. She was crazy to volunteer to save her sister, but of course, she had to. Her sister wouldn’t last ten seconds in the Arena. Whereas Katniss knows she has a tiny little chance. She knows about edible plants, enough to live off the land for a few days or weeks. And she can shoot pretty well. If she can get hold of a bow and arrows in the Arena, she could even defend herself. But that’s a long-shot, and her best bet is to run and hide and let the other tributes kill each other. 

But then, in the pre-Game interviews, the other tribute from District 12 blurts out a “secret” that makes it all a thousand times worse. Peeta Mellark claims he’s in love with Katniss. The TV people eat up that kind of thing, but Katniss knows perfectly well it’s all a sham. First chance Peeta gets in the Arena, he’ll put a knife in her belly. From here on, Peeta is her most hated enemy. 

To make things worse, the mentor for District 12 is a weird old drunk, Haymitch Abernathy. He once won a Hunger Games, decades ago, so it’s his job to coach Katniss and Peeta. But Haymitch is worse than useless. Katniss has no choice but to kiss up to him, because his job during the Games will be to find sponsors who can send in gifts. Food at the right time, or medicine from a sponsor—those could be life and death. But Katniss hates Haymitch for his surly incompetence. 

When the Games begin, Katniss fails to get a bow. She grabs a knife and a few odd supplies and then runs for her life. Within minutes, a number of tributes are dead, but by that time, Katniss is far away, running deep into the forest, looking for a safe hideout. Soon enough, she learns the awful truth. Peeta has teamed up with the killer tributes from Districts 1 and 2 and 4. Together, they’re scouring the Arena, killing off the weak. And they’ve taken Peeta onto their team specifically because “lover boy” has promised to deliver them Katniss. 

Katniss is enraged. She’ll have Peeta’s head on a platter. But first, she needs to attack the killer tributes and get the precious bow and arrows that one of them is using so poorly. Fat chance of that. Late one evening, they get her cornered high in a tree. Tomorrow morning, they’re going to take her out, and there’s not a thing she can do to save herself. 

Haymitch Abernathy

Haymitch Abernathy’s life has been hell ever since he won the Hunger Games 24 years ago. He still lives with the guilt and self-hatred that is natural for any victor with a soul. He drowns his shame in alcohol, but a bottle only lasts so long. Haymitch’s problem is that he has no killer instinct—he won the Games because he has survivor instinct, a very different thing. And Haymitch sees in Katniss a kindred spirit. She’s a survivor, that one. Peeta, not so much. Peeta’s going to be dogmeat in the Arena.

Haymitch desperately wants Katniss to win. And if he has to use Peeta to make that happen, it’s not his fault there can only be one winner. To help Katniss win, Haymitch needs to make her a TV audience favorite. That’s the surest way to loosen up the wallet of the wealthy sponsors. But Katniss is not the most likable person, whereas Peeta is. So Haymitch’s strategy is to get the audience to like Peeta, and then get Peeta to say he’s in love with Katniss. Everyone loves a lover, right? Peeta’s going to be Haymitch’s patsy to save Katniss. And the horrible thing is that Peeta’s sincere. The dumb kid really is in love with Katniss, and he’ll do anything to save her. 

And it works, sorta, kinda. Once the Games begin, Peeta pretends to team up with the killers. When they corner Katniss in a tree, she fights them all off with a crazy trick. But she escapes only because Peeta defends her from one of the bad guys, getting badly wounded in the process. Now Peeta’s no use to Katniss. So Haymitch persuades the Gamemakers that the TV ratings will go berserk if they announce a “new rule”—that two tributes from the same district will be allowed to live, if they’re the final two. Of course, it’s a lie, but it motivates Katniss to find Peeta. 

And the TV audience goes wild. Now the Hunger Games are a tale of love AND a tale of war, and what could be better? This is crucial because Haymitch needs to find sponsors willing to pay exorbitant amounts to send gifts to Katniss in the Arena—food or medicine that could keep her alive. When Katniss finds Peeta, she has the great good sense to show some human decency. She nurses him back to health. Haymitch times the arrival of his gifts so that Katniss finally figures out that a little lovey-dovey kissy-face will open up the TV audience’s wallets like there’s no tomorrow. She’s a bit slow on the uptake, but once she gets the idea, the girl can act. 

As the Games progress, more tributes die, but Katniss and Peeta hang on. 

At the end, when only Katniss and Peeta are left, the Gamemakers revoke the “new rule” allowing two survivors from the same district, as Haymitch knew all along. Because the point of the Games is to rub misery in the face of the Districts. Peeta is doomed, just like Haymitch expected. Katniss has this thing sewn up. Except that Haymitch wasn’t counting on one thing. 

Katniss Everdeen has a heart after all. Or something. She finds a way to keep both her and Peeta alive. And in the process, she makes the Gamemakers look stupid. So now Haymitch is going to have to fight the battle of his life to keep the little idiot from getting killed when she gets out of the Arena. The Games are finished, but they’ll never ever ever be over. 

Unless an old, drunk washed-up loser named Haymitch Abernathy can pull one last trick out of his threadbare sleeve.

Homework

What do you think? Do you like my character synopses? Think maybe you could do better?

Actually, I think you can. Because there’s one very important character I left out of my synopses. One guy who pulled some strings that most people didn’t even know were there. If you’re wondering why I didn’t say a word about Cinna, it’s because I’ve been saving him for you to work with.

Your homework, should you decide to accept it, is to write four character synopses—for Peeta, Katniss, Haymitch, and Cinna. But don’t write them in that order. The order of character synopses matters. If you reorder the synopses, you have to change each one so as to tell the whole story in a somewhat linear way. So scramble up my order, write your own versions, and put in Cinna wherever you think best. This exercise will teach you much more than merely reading what I’ve done above. 

And may the odds be ever in your favor when you write your next proposal.

The post Your Secret Weapon–Character Synopses appeared first on Advanced Fiction Writing.

As the New Year rolls around, it’s easy to commit to a bunch of new things intended to turn you into a Whole New You. But commitment comes with a cost. When you say Yes to one thing, you’re implicitly saying No to many others. 

The Problem of Limited Time

The problem is that nobody has unlimited time. Most of us work for a living. And we have to sleep and eat and exercise and all the other essentials. A week contains 168 hours, but most of those are already spoken for. If you’re lucky, you’ve got one free hour per day that you could commit to something new. 

An hour per day is seven hours per week. Which is a lot. With seven hours per week, in a year’s time, you could:

Get a lot fitter than you are right now. Write a novel. Learn a foreign language. Build a following on TikTok or Instagram or YouTube. Read all those books you always wanted to read. Binge-watch all the episodes of several long series on Netflix. Grow an amazing garden. Fix everything broken in your house. Hundreds of other things—fill in the blank with your own private dream.

But you can’t do all of those things. You just can’t. If you try, you’ll burn hot for about three days, and then you’ll flame out, and then next year will be just like last year.

Pick One and Stick To It

So pick just one of those and commit to it for a year. You can always regroup at the end of the year and see if it gave you what you thought it would. Maybe it will; maybe it won’t. But in a year, you’ll know if it was worth the candle, and next year you might choose something different. 

But this year, just for this year, pick one thing. One “Project of the Year.”

And now stick to it for the whole year.

Yes, But How Do You Stick To It?

Some things are easy to stick to. Binge-watching Netflix doesn’t take any discipline. But getting fitter does. Or writing a novel. Or learning a language. So here are a couple of things you can do to help with the discipline thing. 

First, schedule time to do it. Maybe mark your electronic calender with the days and times you’re going to do it. Maybe set an alarm on your phone to remind you when it’s time. Whatever it takes to remind you that it’s time to work on your Project of the Year.

But scheduling time only goes so far. Because when the time comes around, there are always excuses. Trust me, I know them all, because I’ve used them all. 

The only way to fight excuses is with motivation. Here’s something I’ll be trying this year to help with the motivation thing. It works for some people, so it might work for me, and it might work for you: 

Set a timer on your phone for late in the day, about 15 minutes before bedtime. When the timer goes off, shut down whatever you’re doing. This may take a few minutes. That’s fine. Take those few minutes and gracefully shut down. There’s no rush here. Spend about 5 minutes journaling about your current Project of the Year, whatever it is. What is the next step you want to take? What problem might you run into? What ideas do you have so far for dealing with that problem? Please note: you don’t have to solve the problem. Just be aware of it. Now go to bed and let your subconscious mind work on the problem. Or not. You can’t control your subconscious mind. You can lead a horse to water, but it’ll only drink if it wants to. In the morning when you wake up, you’ll be eager to work on your Project of the Year. You just will. That Sounds Too Good To Be True

The above idea sounds too simple. How could that actually work? 

For one thing, it reminds you every day that you have a Project of the Year. And a big part of motivation is just keeping your Project of the Year at the top of your mind. 

For another thing, it gets your subconscious mind excited about your Project of the Year. And your subconscious mind is the little guy that’s so good at coming up with excuses. When your subconscious mind is excited, you’re excited. Your subconscious mind is your secret helper. 

Finally, your subconscious mind is a lot smarter than you are. Oh, sure, you’re smart. You’re a writer, and all writers are smart. But your subconscious mind is smarter. Mine has solved countless math problems while I slept. Which is useful to me, because I solve math problems for a living—that’s what my day job is. And I know from experience that when I wake up in the morning and my subconscious mind has solved a problem, I’m incredibly eager to get to work to fill in the details. 

Homework:

If you’re in on this, here’s your homework in 4 easy steps:

Pick your Project of the Year. Just one. Not two, not three, and definitely not seven.Take a look at your life and figure out how many hours you have per week for your Project of the Year. Can you find 3 hours per week? Or 5? Or maybe even 7? If you can’t find enough hours, are there some things you said Yes to in previous years that you could now say No to?Schedule time to work on your Project of the Year. Pick days of the week and a time block in each of those days. Write it down in your journal or on your calendar. Maybe set an alarm on your phone to remind you. Schedule 15 minutes at the end of every day to cue up your subconscious mind to think about your Project of the Year. This is NOT time to work on the Project of the Year. This is time to think about it and get your secret helper excited about it. 

Let me know how this works out for you. And let me know if you find ways to make it work even better. 

The post Every Yes is a Thousand Noes appeared first on Advanced Fiction Writing.

It’s never too late to write the one-sentence summary for your novel. Or rewrite it.

The one-sentence summary is the first step in my wildly popular Snowflake Method of writing a novel. But even if you don’t use the Snowflake Method, you still need a one-sentence summary.

What is a One-Sentence Summary?

A one-sentence summary is a sentence of up to 25 words that sets up the Story Question in your reader’s mind. Please note that the one-sentence summary usually is not the Story Question itself. The one-sentence summary causes your reader to ask the Story Question.

And what is the Story Question? That’s easy. The lead character of novel has some goal that they want to achieve by the end of the novel. Either they want to get something, or do something, or become something. The Story Question asks whether the lead character will achieve their goal. 

An Example One-Sentence Summary 

Let’s write an example one-sentence summary for one of my favorite spy novels, The Eye of the Needle, by Ken Follett. A little background is in order. 

It’s the spring of 1944, and World War II is anyone’s war to win—or lose. The German army is defending Europe, and the Allies have captured much of Italy. Everyone knows the Allies are going to attempt an invasion of France by crossing the English Channel. But nobody knows where the attack will land. Calais is the closest point on the French coast for an attack, but Normandy is less well-defended.

The German armies must defend both Calais and Normandy against attack, but they have limited forces. Their job would be much easier if only they knew where the attack would land. 

The Allies intend to attack Normandy. To fool the Germans, they create a large fake military camp on the ground in East Anglia, making it appear that they will attack Calais. The camp can easily be seen from the air and has thousands of fake tanks, airplanes, and buildings. The Allies generate fake radio messages from the camp, and run a bombing campaign against Calais.

The ruse works, and the Germans focus their defense on Calais. The Allies attack Normandy and create a foothold in Europe that eventually leads to victory. 

All of the above is standard history. What could have gone wrong? Suppose a German spy had investigated the fake military camp and discovered the ruse? Suppose the spy notified the Nazi high command? Then the Germans might have shifted their defenses to Normandy, and the war might have ended differently. We’ll never know, because it didn’t happen. 

But Ken Follett decided this possibility would make an exciting novel. Here’s my one-sentence summary of the storyline: “Shortly before D-Day, the only German spy in England discovers that the Allied invasion force threatening Calais is a fake.” 

That’s it. Just 20 words. I’ve left out all the story background. I’ve left out the names of all the characters. I’ve left out the Story Question. The one-sentence summary leaves out almost everything. But what goes into it? 

The Ingredients of a One-Sentency Summary

  These are the usual ingredients I use for cooking up a one-sentence summary. I don’t always use all of them, but I usually use most of them:

Time or place information to establish the setting. A paradoxical description of a major character.A surprising event that suggests the Story Question. At least one emotive “kicker” word. 

In my example one-sentence summary, the phrase “shortly before D-Day” tells us the time, and the words “in England” tells us the location. We don’t need to be more precise than that. 

The paradoxical description of a major character is “the only German spy in England.” This is paradoxical because it’s rather shocking to hear that there might be just a single spy in the entire country. The reader probably won’t know for sure if it’s true, but it’s possible. And this fact massively raises the stakes on the story. This is the only spy who can inform the German high command, so everything is riding on him! 

The Story Question is obvious: Will the spy be able to warn his superiors about the fake invasion force, or will he not? The one-sentence summary doesn’t “tell” the reader the Story Question. It “shows” the reader enough information to figure out the Story Question. And having figured it out, the reader is now engaged in the story. 

The “kicker” word is the last one in the sentence—“fake.” The first 19 words of the story appear to be about an invasion force, and everyone knows there was an invasion. So the first 19 words make it seem like this is just another war story. Then the word “fake” turns everything around. Readers who know the history of the Normandy invasion will realize that this must be FUSAG—the famous fictitious First United States Army Group, under the command of George Patton. Readers who don’t know the history of the invasion will wonder what’s going on—and if they care about World War II, they’ll want to know more. 

Why Do You Need a One-Sentency Summary?

There are many reasons you need a one-sentence summary. Here are some of the most important:

It keeps you focused when you’re writing your first draft, potentially shaving months off the time it takes to get it written. It helps you edit your manuscript, because it tells you what to leave in, and what to take out. It sells your book to your agent, who now knows how to sell it to your editor.It sells your book to your editor, who now knows how to sell it to their publishing committee. It sells your book to the publishing committee, who makes the final decision on whether your editor will be allowed to publish your book. It sells your book to your marketing team, because when you hand them a great one-sentence summary, you’ve done half their job. It tells your cover designer how to create the perfect cover for your book. It sells your book to potential readers in your target audience. In ten seconds, they know your book is exactly what they’ve been dying to read. It scares away potential readers who are not in your target audience. You absolutely don’t want them reading your book and then leaving a review explaining why it’s not the book they were expecting. What if You Don’t Have a One-Sentency Summary?

There’s no better time than yesterday to write one. If that didn’t work out, there’s no time like the present. If that’s not in the cards, then tomorrow still works.

Some writers know their one-sentence summary from the get-go, before they even write the first word of their novel. Other writers like to discover their one-sentence summary as the story unfolds in their mind, bit by bit. They may need to write the whole first draft before they know what their story’s about. And that’s fine. 

The truth is that even writers who planned their story in advance will find some surprises while writing the first draft. By the time the manuscript is written, the story has usually evolved. In that case, it doesn’t hurt to refine the original one-sentence summary—or scrap it altogether and write a new one, a better one. 

I like to write a one-sentence summary before I start writing. But then I refine it after I’ve written the first quarter of the first draft. Then I refine it again when the book is half done, and again when it’s three-quarters done. And (hopefully) one last time when the first draft is complete.

There’s no harm in revising your one-sentence summary several times. It’s a bit like a fine wine—it gets better with age. 

HomeworkDo you have a one-sentence summary for your novel? If not, would you like one?What is the time and place where your novel is set? What is the most important goal of any of the characters in your story? (It doesn’t need to be your protagonist who has the goal.)How can you define that character in a paradoxical way? What is the “kicker” you can put at the end of the sentence that makes the story special? Give yourself one hour and write the best one-sentence summary you can within that time limit. It can be awful, if that’s the best you’ve got, but it needs to be 25 words or less. Less is more.Some Example One-Sentence Summaries

What makes each of the following one-sentence summaries work? Can you do better?

A 17-year-old girl pretends to fall in love with another contestant in the arena where she and 23 other teens must fight to the death. ( The Hunger Games , by Suzanne Collins.)A young English woman with little prospect of marriage must fend off a rude young aristocrat who thinks he loves her. ( Pride & Prejudice , by Jane Austen.) At the height of the cold war, a Russian submarine captain decides to turn over his latest-generation nuclear sub to the Americans. ( The Hunt for Red October , by Tom Clancy.)A rogue physicist travels back in time to kill the apostle Paul. (My first published novel, Transgression .)

The post Your One-Sentence Summary appeared first on Advanced Fiction Writing.

Most novelists don’t know their characters well enough when they start writing their novel. The problem is that you get to know your characters by writing about your characters. 

If you get to know your characters by writing the first draft of your novel, you’ll write the first 200 pages before you really know your characters. And that may mean you need to thoroughly rewrite the whole book.

That seems inefficient. Isn’t there a faster way? 

Yes, there is. If you use my Snowflake Method, you’ve already got a nice tool for getting to know your characters. But not everyone’s brain is wired to use the Snowflake Method. 

So what if you’re not a Snowflaker?

If you’re not a Snowflaker, you can interview your characters. That’s a great way to get to know them. And in fact, even if you are a Snowflaker, you can also interview them, and it’s a great way to fill in some of the missing details in your Snowflake document.

How To Interview One Character

First, let me thank one of my very first friends in the writing business, John DeSimone. I met John at a writing conference in 1990, and we quickly became writing buddies. We talked on the phone often over the years. John introduced me to my first agent. And he also was the first person to tell me about interviewing his characters. 

John later got an MFA in creative writing, and he taught writing for years. He’s organized writing conferences, worked as an editor, and worked as a ghostwriter. And of course he’s published some novels. You can see what he’s up to at his website.

Interviewing a character is extremely simple. Here are the steps:

1) Decide which character in your novel you want to get to know better.

2) Open up your word processor and start a new document. 

3) Ask your character any question that comes to mind. A good one is, “What’s your main problem at the start of this novel?”

4) Let your character answer, however long or short they want to go. 

5) Ask another question based on that answer. You can be friendly or antagonistic, or both, or neither. Pretend you’re writing a feature article for your favorite news outlet. Make your character talk. Listen to how they express themselves. Continue until you’re done. 

Which Characters Should You Interview?

I find it useful to interview any character who gets significant air time in my novel. 

Definitely interview your lead character. One of the hardest parts of writing a novel is figuring out where your story is going. When you interview your lead character, ask them where they think they’re going. Then in your story, force them to go somewhere else. 

I think it’s even more important to interview your villain. Why? Because it’s all too easy to make your villain a two-dimensional bad guy with no redeeming features. When you interview your villain, you have a chance to dive deep, to figure out why they’ve gone bad. And how they justify their actions. How they convince themselves that they’re actually the good guy, the hero of the story. When you know that, you’ll automatically have a better story. 

It also makes sense to interview any viewpoint characters. If you’re writing even one scene from any character’s point-of-view, it really helps to know how they think. And you learn how they think by listening to them talk. You get them talking by asking them questions.

An Example Character Interview

OK, enough theory. Here’s the beginnings of a character interview with a guy most of you are familiar with, Luke Skywalker, from Star Wars. This is not an official interview. Luke is not my character, and I had nothing to do with the Star Wars movies. This is purely for educational purposes. 

This is how I imagine I’d get to know Luke if I was just starting out to write the very first Star Wars movie, and if I didn’t really have a good idea where the story was going. 

In this interview, I’ll use my initials (RI) and Luke’s initials (LS). And away we go…

RI: Hi Luke, you’re a young guy working on a farm. Tell me what you’d like to be doing in five years. Where do you see your life going?

LS: Don’t get me started! I’m going nowhere. I hate working on this farm. This is the most boring planet in the galaxy. And I’ll probably die of boredom before I’m thirty. 

RI: Why don’t you just leave? You’re not helpless.

LS: I can’t leave! I owe it to my Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru. They raised me when I was an orphan, and now I have to help them keep the farm going. Even though I hate it. 

RI: I don’t get it. Yes, you owe them something, but you’re not an indentured servant. You’re an adult, and farming isn’t in your blood. Can’t they hire somebody? Or get a few droids to help out?

LS: They can’t afford to hire anybody. And droids are expensive. So I’m stuck here. My best buddy went off to join the rebels last year, but I’ll be here forever. 

RI: Explain to me about the rebels. Is there something going on I don’t know about?

LS: What cave did you crawl out of? Don’t you know? The whole galaxy’s in revolt. The evil Emperor has finally gone too far. There are whole planets that have rebelled. There’s something called the Rebellion, which I’m not supposed to talk about, but it’s real. And it’ll be over before I ever get off this planet to join. 

RI: That sounds great! The Rebellion will knock off the evil Emperor, and you’ll be safely here, away from danger—

LS: What are you talking about? The Rebellion hasn’t got a prayer of winning. There’s this new thing called the Death Star. It can knock out a planet with one giant zap. And then on to the next one. Everyone’s terrified of it, but nobody’s doing anything about it. 

RI: Well, then obviously you don’t want to get involved. If the Rebellion has no chance of winning, you’d just get yourself killed, and that would be—

LS: NO!!!! I can’t just do nothing. That’s stupid and lame and wrong. I could help. I’m a good flyer. I could go to battle and fight the Evil Empire. 

RI: With all due respect, you’re just one guy. I’m sure you fly very well for a farm boy, but you’re not military-trained, and anyway one guy against the Death Star doesn’t sound like a fair fight. If you want my advice, don’t get involved.

LS: I don’t care! I’ve got to do something! You make me sick, talking about running and hiding. 

RI: Hey Luke? Chill, OK? Frankly, you sound a little childish. You talk big about fighting the evil Emperor and taking on the Death Star, but you can’t even stand up for yourself and tell your uncle you need to get off the farm. I think you’re all talk, no action. 

LS: You don’t talk to me like that, you hear? Cause if you do, I’ll … um … 

RI: You’ll do what, Luke? Throw milk on me? Tell the teacher I called you names? I don’t think you’re the violent type. I don’t see you using force to get what you want. 

LS: Wait, what did you say? 

RI: Are you going to throw milk on me?

LS: No, after that. The part about using force. How do you know about that?

RI: I have no idea what you’re talking about. 

LS: You never heard of The Force?

RI: No, what’s The Force?

LS: Well, I’m not supposed to talk about it. Uncle Owen would be really mad. But I heard a rumor that there used to be these amazing guys called the Jedi Knights. And they mastered something called The Force. And they were like, unbeatable in battle. 

RI: Sounds like an old wives tale, Luke. Maybe you should get back to milking cows, or whatever you farm boys do on a desert planet. Because look, I already told you what your real problem is, and—

LS: My problem is I’m stuck here on the farm!

RI: Sorry, no. Luke, your real problem is that you think you’re stuck here on the farm, and you can’t see that there’s absolutely nothing holding you here except your own scaredy-cat self. You say you want to leave, but you don’t really. You’re a bratty little kid, Luke. You don’t want to leave bad enough to just do it, and consequences be damned.

LS: Not true! I should … punch you for that!

RI: Yes, you should. But you won’t. Because you’re just a whiny do-nothing kid, and you’re never going to amount to—ouch! That hurt! Hey, come back here, and I’ll punch you right back! Where do you think you’re going?

LS: I have no idea. But I’m out of here.

What Are You Waiting For?

Are you itching to start your first interview with one of your characters? What are you waiting for? You have a whole universe of potential characters waiting to be discovered. 

Go to it. And may the … 

No, no, I’m not using that cliche. It’s been done to death. But remember one thing. At one point in time, nobody on the planet had ever said, “May the Force be with you.” 

Until George Lucas met Obi-Wan Kenobi. I like to think they met in a smoky bar, had a bunch of drinks, talked about life and war and philosophy and love and power and fear and hopes and dreams. And about two hours in, working on their fifteenth beer, Obi-Wan Kenobi said something about the Force. 

And George was listening. 

The post How to Interview Your Characters appeared first on Advanced Fiction Writing.

Writing fiction is all about creating conflict. Putting your characters in a crucible. Raising the temperature. This shows your reader what your characters are made of. And one reason we read fiction is to learn how to deal with the conflict in our own lives by living out conflict in somebody else’s skin. 

Dialogue is one of your best tools for creating conflict in your fiction. It’s not your only tool. You’ve also got action, interior monologue, interior emotion, and (sometimes) description. 

And one of the quickest ways to raise the temperature using dialogue is with a zinger. Let me define what I mean by a zinger. It’s a short, pithy remark that makes some other character look stupid or exposes their lie. 

That’s all fine in fiction. In your novel, you have good people and bad people. They’re clearly defined. Your protagonist is (usually) one of the good people. Your villain is (almost always) one of the bad people. Your protagonist stands for the right, and your villain stands for the wrong, and a well-aimed zinger is a shot for justice.

So What’s Wrong With That?

Nothing’s wrong with that, if you have all the facts. If you know exactly who’s right and who’s wrong. And you do know that in a novel, because you created the storyworld. You are the God of your storyworld; you are omniscient; you can set things up so there is a clear right side and a clear wrong side. 

And you control how high the temperature goes in your novel. You can set things up with a zinger, and maybe a counterzinger, and maybe even a final countercounterzinger. But when the temperature has risen to just to the right point, you get to decide when to drop it down again. Because you’re God. It’s your story, so you set the limits. You choose how much mud will be slung, and then you stop the action. 

Real life is a little more complicated than that. In real life, you and I are not God. We’re not omniscient. We sometimes make mistakes. (At least I do; I’m betting you do too.) 

In real life, when we get into an argument, it’s likely that both sides actually have some valid points to make. Because both sides bring different life experiences to the table. You know stuff I don’t. I know stuff you don’t.

Now let’s suppose you and I get into a zinger fight. Let’s say that I simplify your position to make it sound as dumb as possible, and then I shoot a zinger at you. You very rightly get angry that I misrepresented your case, so you respond in kind. You simplify my position to make it sound as dumb as possible, and then you fire a zinger back at me. Maybe you even escalate it a bit. Then I escalate it more with my own zinger. 

The problem now is there’s no limit. We can keep escalating it until everyone’s furious. God doesn’t usually step in to lower the temperature. Everyone keeps slinging mud until they’re all covered with it, and they’ve forgotten what the argument was about in the first place. 

Zingers raise the temperature without limit. Zingers kill rational discussion. Zingers make real life worse, not better. 

Zingers on Social Media

One major problem with social media is that it promotes zingers. The social media algorithms reward and amplify outrage.

Here’s how it works.

Somebody posts a zinger on a social media platform. It’s often about religion or politics, and it’s often a meme that simplifies and misrepresents somebody else’s beliefs into something ridiculous. Then it skewers that misrepresentation. 

If nobody responded to the zinger post, it would just die. But if it’s outrageous enough, somebody on the other side will get angry, and they’ll respond with their own zinger. The algorithm notices this and shows it to more people. Then the original poster responds with a new zinger. That’s more juice for the algorithm, and it shows the post to more people. And so it escalates.

The more the temperature rises, the more responses the post gets, and the more the algorithm shows it around, and the more people get angry. 

Is this sounding familiar? 

The social media platforms love outrage, because outrage means engagement, and engagement means eyeballs, and eyeballs mean advertising dollars. 

But all that outrage just turns social media into a toxic pit that nobody likes. A place where everyone is angry. Where everyone’s blood pressure is up. Where the only winner is the billionaire who runs the social media platform. 

Yeah, But There’s Nothing We Can Do About It

It’s easy to think that we have no control here. Zingers are gonna zing, and we can’t stop them.

Actually, we can do something about it. Anyone can choose to opt out of the zinger lifestyle. Anyone can quench the zingers in their own personal world. Anyone can help make the world a better place. 

Anyone can do that by adopting a few simple rules. Here are the ones I’ve adopted recently, which you might find useful.

Rules For a Zinger-Free WorldDon’t post zingers. If you can simplify somebody else’s beliefs down to just a few words that could be zinged, then you probably don’t understand their beliefs. Real beliefs of real people have nuance. Your beliefs have nuance. Mine do. Everybody’s do. When you see a zinger on social media that enrages you, ignore it. If you have an option to hide it, do so. (This will release one of those feel-good chemicals in your brain, so it’s actually good for you.) The algorithm will take note and show you fewer zingers likely to enrage you. And it will also take note that the post got negative engagement, so it may actually show the post to fewer people. If you post something on social media, and somebody responds with a zinger, ask yourself if you did something to enrage them. If so, then apologize. If not, then delete the zinger. If you know them, send them a message that you don’t allow zingers on your page. If you don’t know them, post a short message saying that you deleted a zinger because you don’t allow zingers on your page.If you’re really committed to eliminating zingers, declare your page a zinger-free zone. You may be able to post your own personal rules for a zinger-free world somewhere on your page or your profile. Then you can refer violators to your rules when they complain that you deleted their zinger.Will Going Zinger-Free Actually Make a Difference?

If you and I are the only people who adopt zinger-free rules, then we’ll each benefit personally.  Our blood pressure will be lower. We’ll sleep better. We’ll feel happier. These benefits kick in immediately. 

But imagine a world in which most people adopt their own personal set of zinger-free rules. Then the world would become a less hateful place. We’d all be better off. The more people who go zinger-free, the better the world would be. These benefits would take time, because it takes time for new ideas to spread. But the early adopters would benefit most. 

Please note that I am not saying nobody should ever discuss controversial ideas. Of course we should. That’s how we learn. That’s how we change. But you can talk about tough subjects without using zingers. And you can refuse to engage with people who want to zing you.  

There’s one group who won’t like the idea of a zinger-free world—the billionaires who profit from the outrage. I’m not too worried about them. I bet you aren’t either. 

Are you in? Or do you like things the way they are?

The post The Problem With Zingers appeared first on Advanced Fiction Writing.

AI tools burst onto the public consciousness last year with a new release of ChatGPT that seems pretty smart to most people. It’s not yet smarter than a human. But it’s surprisingly good. And it’s fast. And it’s cheap. 

I have no interest in writing my novels using AI. My novels should be mine, not somebody else’s. 

But a lot of people use AI as a research tool. As a better version of Google. 

What Could Possibly Go Wrong?

You’ve probably heard that ChatGPT and other tools that use “large language models” are prone to hallucination. Meaning they tend to make up an answer when they don’t know. 

What’s the story here? True or not true? 

I recently had a research question that I took to ChatGPT to see how it would do. As some of you know, I write historical novels, and I’ve read the works of many historians over the years. I’ve read so many, it’s sometimes hard to remember who exactly said what. 

I had a vague recollection that one particular historian (we’ll call him Fred) had written on a particular topic. But I wasn’t sure. A search on Google didn’t bring up anything. So I asked ChatGPT what “Fred” had said on this subject. 

ChatGPT replied with a general high-level summary of Fred’s thoughts on this subject, which it organized as five bullet points. I am very familiar with Fred’s writings, and these certainly sounded like things Fred would say, but I was looking for references, exact quotes.

I asked ChatGPT for a specific reference for bullet point 4. It immediately referred me to one of Fred’s well-known books, which I have in my library. I bought it many years ago, the fifth edition of the book. ChatGPT referred me to the sixth edition of the book, and it said I could find Fred’s thoughts explained well in Chapter 9. It even gave the title of Chapter 9. 

I opened my copy of the fifth edition and found that the title of Chapter 9 was not the one ChatGPT had given. So I went to Amazon and bought the e-book version of the sixth edition, just so I could drill down to the actual words of Fred.

When I opened the sixth edition, I found that the title of Chapter 9 in this edition was the same as in the paper copy I bought 40 years ago. ChatGPT had gotten the chapter title wrong. It wasn’t close.

Worser and Worser

I told ChatGPT it had made a mistake, that it had given the wrong title for Chapter 9, and in fact that chapter had nothing to do with the question I’d asked in the first place. 

ChatGPT immediately apologized for the confusion. It told me the actual material I wanted was found in Chapter 8 and Chapter 10 of the book. And it again gave me the titles of these chapters. 

But both titles were wrong, and those chapters also had nothing to do with the original question. It seemed that ChatGPT was simply digging itself in deeper and deeper. 

I was getting impatient. I told ChatGPT that neither chapter title was correct, and I asked for a direct quote of Fred’s own words. I figured I could then do an electronic search for any prominent words in the quote, and that would take me to the passage where Fred dealt with my question.

ChatGPT again apologized for the “confusion” and gave me a direct quote from Fred. It was two full sentences, about 70 words long. I’ve read enough of Fred’s books to know his voice. The quote sounded exactly like what he would have said. So I searched for several words in the quote. 

They weren’t there. ChatGPT had invented a direct quote from Fred. When people talk about hallucinations of ChatGPT, this is what they mean. 

I challenged ChatGPT again, telling it that I have the book, and the quotation it had given me was NOT in the book anywhere. 

More Apologies

ChatGPT apologized again. I will say this for it—ChatGPT is good at apologizing. I’ve known many people who make up stuff but never apologize for their mistake. ChatGPT at least will admit it’s wrong when you confront it. 

ChatGPT did more than apologize though. It gave me a shorter quotation from Fred’s book, giving me the page number on which the words could be found. I checked. Another hallucination.

My response to ChatGPT was very terse: “I have the book. This quotation is not found in it.”

You can guess what happened next. ChatGPT apologized again, and gave me another quote that sounded exactly like what Fred would say. This time, ChatGPT attributed it to Chater 8. 

But once again, the quote was not in the book. So I challenged ChatGPT yet again, and again it apologized and gave me another quote that sounded perfectly authentic, but wasn’t.

The Bottom Line

By the end of the session, ChatGPT had given me five apologies for incorrect statements. But I never did find out what Fred thinks on the particular topic. 

Let’s be clear. When I started the session, I had a vague recollection that Fred had written something once on this topic, but I couldn’t remember exactly what he said or where it was found. I knew that I didn’t know the answer. 

During the session, ChatGPT confidently gave me five answers that were no better than my vague recollection. They were no worse, but I was looking for better, and ChatGPT was just as bad at pulling up the actual quote as I was. But ChatGPT didn’t know that it didn’t know.

There’s a saying that’s been going around for awhile, that “You don’t know what you don’t know.” This is often associated with the Dunning-Kurger effect, which says (very roughly) that people who are very ignorant of a subject often overestimate their level of understanding of it, whereas highly informed people accurately estimate their level of understanding. 

Or in other words, ignorant people don’t know that they don’t know something. But competent people know when they know, and they also know when they don’t know. 

I am pretty well-read in my chosen time period of history, but there are many things I don’t know. And I’m at least competent enough to know that I don’t know something. 

ChatGPT does not know when it doesn’t know something. And there’s our hazard. 

Because ChatGPT was trained on information scraped from the internet. And now many people are using it to write articles to post on the internet. That’s much easier than doing the hard word yourself. In a morning’s work, you could use ChatGPT to write dozens of articles. 

Which means that future variants of ChatGPT and other large language models will probably be trained on information that was hallucinated by their own previous versions. That can’t end well. 

Should You Use ChatGPT for Research?

Yes, of course you should. I recently asked ChatGPT a math question which I’d been puzzling over for a couple of hours. It instantly suggested a possible solution. That wasn’t quite what I needed, so I pointed out some flaws in its suggestion. It immediately suggested an improvement. That was also not quite what I needed, but it was close. And I solved the math problem. 

The moral is this: Trust, but verify. (That’s an old Russian proverb that Ronald Reagan learned about and repeated often. John Kerry later updated it to “Verify and verify.”) 

Use ChatGPT for ideas. It can be very creative. But verify everything. If ChatGPT gives you a direct quote, with references and page numbers, look it up and make sure. 

Human sources are fallible too, but good human sources written by experts in their field have a huge advantage over ChatGPT—they know when they don’t know. 

The post Researching Your Novel With ChatGPT appeared first on Advanced Fiction Writing.

I read a book review once which began, “This book answers a question nobody is asking.” The reviewer thought that was a bad thing. He thought he was trashing the book. 

But in reality, that was quite an endorsement. If you want to make a difference in the world, you need to begin by asking a question nobody is asking. 

That’s not enough, of course. Questions are easy to ask. Anybody can ask a hard question. Anybody can ask an unanswerable question. Children do it all the time.

Progress happens when you ask a question nobody is asking, but which can finally be answered at this stage in human history, because we now know enough to tackle the question.

In 1903, the Wright brothers were asking how to get a machine to fly when it was heavier than air. A couple of years later, Einstein was asking what if the speed of light had the same value in all reference frames. (In both cases, I’m simplifying things a bit. It’s a bit more complicated than that, but not much more complicated.)

Every Novel Has a “What If?” Question

This matters for novelists because at the heart of every novel is a question. A “what if?” question. 

Most novels use a familiar “what if?” question that has been asked and answered many times before.

But the really ground-breaking novels ask a “what if?” question that is new. 

It’s easy to ask a familiar “what if?” question. When you do, you get a familiar novel. 

It’s also easy to ask an utterly unfamiliar “what if?” question that is too weird for words. When you do, you get a novel nobody wants to read. 

The tricky thing is to ask a “what if?” question that is just right. Not completely familiar. Not ridiculously bizarre. Just right. 

A Little Exercise For YouMake a list of some of your favorite novels. For each novel, what’s the “what if?” question the novel asked? In what way is that “what if?” question familiar—just like many other novels that came before it?In what way is that “what if?” question unfamiliar—unlike any other novel that came before it?

I hope this is helpful to you in working on your next novel. 

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