Ask the Author: Alexander Ferrar
Answered Questions (5)
Alexander Ferrar
Memoirs of a Swine vol. V
"Does our hero finally make peace with his abusive father? No. But does he learn to forgive and move on, becoming a better man? Also no."
"Does our hero finally make peace with his abusive father? No. But does he learn to forgive and move on, becoming a better man? Also no."
Alexander Ferrar
down and shoot it. Nobody needs to read a bunch of description if there will be no pay-off later.
So, what I do, is start reading again, and find some detail I’d forgotten about, some gun, and pick it up and shoot it. Here’s an example. In Friends Like These (spoiler alert, if you haven’t read it yet) the main character’s girlfriend turns out to be a narc. She gets shot, her blouse is torn open so they can find the wound, and they see the wire and microphone. The main character, Simone, makes a snap decision to betray her friends, and rescues her, gets her to a hospital, and then never hears anything about her because the cops take her to an undisclosed location. Since Simone was part of the organized crime ring, she’s never going to get info about the undercover agent who would’ve sent her to prison along with the others. So, she has to lay low, because both the cops and her ex-partners are looking for her, and that’s where I was stuck. What then?
I waited a few days, started reading again, and a lightbulb went off over my head in Scene Three. Simone had gone to her regular bar, where the bartender told her the same story he always told. He’d been on another blind date, and it was a disaster. See, this was how he explained never having a girlfriend. All his dates were with crazy chicks. I had her go back to that bar, and talk to the bartender I had forgotten all about, after enough time had gone by. The audience has been set up to have an expectation of a certain outcome. A reversal of it, then, is a twist.
When he tells her he was recently on a date, she expects it to be another horror story, him making excuses that he probably sits around inventing in his down time. But, surprise! The date went well. She is half-interested, and asks about the lucky lady. And the more and more she hears, it becomes obvious that it’s her girlfriend.
Now that the fiction of her deep cover has ended, she’s trying to resume her normal life, and the bartender is her rebound from her first-ever whirlwind lesbian romance. But it’s a clue, and Simone follows it. Asking about the next date, what movie they’re gonna go see, and she lies in wait so she can see them, and stalk them, and the story takes a turn I never would have expected.
And the audience thinks I knew what I was doing the whole time. So, I hope this helps you write your own story, and I look forward to reading it when it’s done.
So, what I do, is start reading again, and find some detail I’d forgotten about, some gun, and pick it up and shoot it. Here’s an example. In Friends Like These (spoiler alert, if you haven’t read it yet) the main character’s girlfriend turns out to be a narc. She gets shot, her blouse is torn open so they can find the wound, and they see the wire and microphone. The main character, Simone, makes a snap decision to betray her friends, and rescues her, gets her to a hospital, and then never hears anything about her because the cops take her to an undisclosed location. Since Simone was part of the organized crime ring, she’s never going to get info about the undercover agent who would’ve sent her to prison along with the others. So, she has to lay low, because both the cops and her ex-partners are looking for her, and that’s where I was stuck. What then?
I waited a few days, started reading again, and a lightbulb went off over my head in Scene Three. Simone had gone to her regular bar, where the bartender told her the same story he always told. He’d been on another blind date, and it was a disaster. See, this was how he explained never having a girlfriend. All his dates were with crazy chicks. I had her go back to that bar, and talk to the bartender I had forgotten all about, after enough time had gone by. The audience has been set up to have an expectation of a certain outcome. A reversal of it, then, is a twist.
When he tells her he was recently on a date, she expects it to be another horror story, him making excuses that he probably sits around inventing in his down time. But, surprise! The date went well. She is half-interested, and asks about the lucky lady. And the more and more she hears, it becomes obvious that it’s her girlfriend.
Now that the fiction of her deep cover has ended, she’s trying to resume her normal life, and the bartender is her rebound from her first-ever whirlwind lesbian romance. But it’s a clue, and Simone follows it. Asking about the next date, what movie they’re gonna go see, and she lies in wait so she can see them, and stalk them, and the story takes a turn I never would have expected.
And the audience thinks I knew what I was doing the whole time. So, I hope this helps you write your own story, and I look forward to reading it when it’s done.
Alexander Ferrar
There are two types of writers, Plotters and Pantsers, and they both seem to look down on each other. Plotters do outlines and write scenes on index cards, laying them out on the floor and agonizing over them, and pantsers just make it up as they go. They write by the seat of their pants.
I find that writers who plan out their whole book before writing the first word, often write the predictable, formulaic books I’ve come to hate. Ah, here we are on page 20. This must be where the conflict will be introduced. Ah, here is the character our protagonist doesn’t like, but is forced to spend time with because of some obligation, like work. See how quickly their unlikely romance blooms. Aaaaaaand boom. The simple misunderstanding that they could easily explain if they’d just listen to each other for five seconds. Now begins the sad part where they miss each other, but are too stubborn to reach out, until the big public event that one of them ruins by proclaiming their love. And everyone claps, instead of telling them to get lost.
But then, there is the problem with pantsers. They just make it up as they go, doop dee doop dee doo, and a pig jumps out of the cupboard and bites off the female lead’s face.
Now, you might remember me from such books as By The Sword, Friends Like These, The Kettle Black, Thy Neighbor’s Wife. Fans loved them because there were twists that kept them guessing. And in By the Sword, the book started with a high-speed car chase, first sentence. I didn’t even know what the book was about. I found out who the characters were while writing the second paragraph, and the story took form as I wrote it. I didn’t know anything about them until I wrote them, and they came to life beneath my pen. And that’s why I write this way. I want to find out what happens! If I already know, I lose interest.
From that one car chase, eight novels were born. A five-part series, and then a spin-off trilogy. But did I just make it all up as I went? Was it easy? No. Twice, I wrote myself into a corner and had no idea how to get out of it, so this is what I did. I do this for all my books, and it serves me well. The thing is, the book’s already written in the depths of my mind. I just have to bring it out.
In World War Two, cryptographers realized the value of the subconscious mind in solving problems. They’d study an enemy code for a long time, then take a break and go wash the dishes, play cards, whatever. Take a nap. Then they experienced what the French call “esprit d’escalier,” or “the wit of the staircase.” They call it that because, when do you think up the great comeback, the thing you should have said to that jerk in the bar? When you’re going upstairs to bed that night. And you think, why am I thinking of this NOW? I needed it hours ago!
It’s because your subconscious mind knew you needed that answer, and got to work on it. It just took longer to sift through all the possible responses. Sometimes the answer to your problem manifests itself in a dream. That’s because you just happen to be asleep when that little ticket pops out of the slot. Ding! Here’s the answer. Even though you’re completely unaware, your dark and murky subconscious is working away at it, and the answer will come when it comes.
So, here’s what I do when I have exhausted all the possibilities. I take a break. I go do something else. Sometimes, like right now, I am writing two books at the same time. I switch from one and focus more on the other. Or I abandon the both of them for a week. Then, I get myself some free time, turn my phone off and hide it in a drawer, and read my story again from the beginning, with fresh eyes.
There, I will find what they call Chekhov’s Gun. Anton Chekhov said about writing that, while describing a house, don’t bother mentioning the rifle hanging above the mantlepiece if nobody, at some point, is going to take it down and shoot it. Nobody needs to read a bunch of description if there will be no pay-off later.
So, what I do, is start reading again, and find some detail I’d forgotten about, some gun, and pick it up and shoot it. Here’s an example. In Friends Like These (spoiler alert, if you haven’t read it yet) the main character’s girlfriend turns out to be a narc. She gets shot, her blouse is torn open so they can find the wound, and they see the wire and microphone. The main character, Simone, makes a snap decision to betray her friends, and rescues her, gets her to a hospital, and then never hears anything about her because the cops take her to an undisclosed location. Since Simone was part of the organized crime ring, she’s never going to get info about the undercover agent who would’ve sent her to prison along with the others. So, she has to lay low, because both the cops and her ex-partners are looking for her, and that’s where I was stuck. What then?
I waited a few days, started reading again, and a lightbulb went off over my head in Scene Three. Simone had gone to her regular bar, where the bartender told her the same story he always told. He’d been on another blind date, and it was a disaster. See, this was how he explained never having a girlfriend. All his dates were with crazy chicks. I had her go back to that bar, and talk to the bartender I had forgotten all about, after enough time had gone by. The audience has been set up to have an expectation of a certain outcome. A reversal of it, then, is a twist.
When he tells her he was recently on a date, she expects it to be another horror story, him making excuses that he probably sits around inventing in his down time. But, surprise! The date went well. She is half-interested, and asks about the lucky lady. And the more and more she hears, it becomes obvious that it’s her girlfriend.
Now that the fiction of her deep cover has ended, she’s trying to resume her normal life, and the bartender is her rebound from her first-ever whirlwind lesbian romance. But it’s a clue, and Simone follows it. Asking about the next date, what movie they’re gonna go see, and she lies in wait so she can see them, and stalk them, and the story takes a turn I never would have expected.
And the audience thinks I knew what I was doing the whole time. So, I hope this helps you write your own story, and I look forward to reading it when it’s done.
I find that writers who plan out their whole book before writing the first word, often write the predictable, formulaic books I’ve come to hate. Ah, here we are on page 20. This must be where the conflict will be introduced. Ah, here is the character our protagonist doesn’t like, but is forced to spend time with because of some obligation, like work. See how quickly their unlikely romance blooms. Aaaaaaand boom. The simple misunderstanding that they could easily explain if they’d just listen to each other for five seconds. Now begins the sad part where they miss each other, but are too stubborn to reach out, until the big public event that one of them ruins by proclaiming their love. And everyone claps, instead of telling them to get lost.
But then, there is the problem with pantsers. They just make it up as they go, doop dee doop dee doo, and a pig jumps out of the cupboard and bites off the female lead’s face.
Now, you might remember me from such books as By The Sword, Friends Like These, The Kettle Black, Thy Neighbor’s Wife. Fans loved them because there were twists that kept them guessing. And in By the Sword, the book started with a high-speed car chase, first sentence. I didn’t even know what the book was about. I found out who the characters were while writing the second paragraph, and the story took form as I wrote it. I didn’t know anything about them until I wrote them, and they came to life beneath my pen. And that’s why I write this way. I want to find out what happens! If I already know, I lose interest.
From that one car chase, eight novels were born. A five-part series, and then a spin-off trilogy. But did I just make it all up as I went? Was it easy? No. Twice, I wrote myself into a corner and had no idea how to get out of it, so this is what I did. I do this for all my books, and it serves me well. The thing is, the book’s already written in the depths of my mind. I just have to bring it out.
In World War Two, cryptographers realized the value of the subconscious mind in solving problems. They’d study an enemy code for a long time, then take a break and go wash the dishes, play cards, whatever. Take a nap. Then they experienced what the French call “esprit d’escalier,” or “the wit of the staircase.” They call it that because, when do you think up the great comeback, the thing you should have said to that jerk in the bar? When you’re going upstairs to bed that night. And you think, why am I thinking of this NOW? I needed it hours ago!
It’s because your subconscious mind knew you needed that answer, and got to work on it. It just took longer to sift through all the possible responses. Sometimes the answer to your problem manifests itself in a dream. That’s because you just happen to be asleep when that little ticket pops out of the slot. Ding! Here’s the answer. Even though you’re completely unaware, your dark and murky subconscious is working away at it, and the answer will come when it comes.
So, here’s what I do when I have exhausted all the possibilities. I take a break. I go do something else. Sometimes, like right now, I am writing two books at the same time. I switch from one and focus more on the other. Or I abandon the both of them for a week. Then, I get myself some free time, turn my phone off and hide it in a drawer, and read my story again from the beginning, with fresh eyes.
There, I will find what they call Chekhov’s Gun. Anton Chekhov said about writing that, while describing a house, don’t bother mentioning the rifle hanging above the mantlepiece if nobody, at some point, is going to take it down and shoot it. Nobody needs to read a bunch of description if there will be no pay-off later.
So, what I do, is start reading again, and find some detail I’d forgotten about, some gun, and pick it up and shoot it. Here’s an example. In Friends Like These (spoiler alert, if you haven’t read it yet) the main character’s girlfriend turns out to be a narc. She gets shot, her blouse is torn open so they can find the wound, and they see the wire and microphone. The main character, Simone, makes a snap decision to betray her friends, and rescues her, gets her to a hospital, and then never hears anything about her because the cops take her to an undisclosed location. Since Simone was part of the organized crime ring, she’s never going to get info about the undercover agent who would’ve sent her to prison along with the others. So, she has to lay low, because both the cops and her ex-partners are looking for her, and that’s where I was stuck. What then?
I waited a few days, started reading again, and a lightbulb went off over my head in Scene Three. Simone had gone to her regular bar, where the bartender told her the same story he always told. He’d been on another blind date, and it was a disaster. See, this was how he explained never having a girlfriend. All his dates were with crazy chicks. I had her go back to that bar, and talk to the bartender I had forgotten all about, after enough time had gone by. The audience has been set up to have an expectation of a certain outcome. A reversal of it, then, is a twist.
When he tells her he was recently on a date, she expects it to be another horror story, him making excuses that he probably sits around inventing in his down time. But, surprise! The date went well. She is half-interested, and asks about the lucky lady. And the more and more she hears, it becomes obvious that it’s her girlfriend.
Now that the fiction of her deep cover has ended, she’s trying to resume her normal life, and the bartender is her rebound from her first-ever whirlwind lesbian romance. But it’s a clue, and Simone follows it. Asking about the next date, what movie they’re gonna go see, and she lies in wait so she can see them, and stalk them, and the story takes a turn I never would have expected.
And the audience thinks I knew what I was doing the whole time. So, I hope this helps you write your own story, and I look forward to reading it when it’s done.
Alexander Ferrar
I know she'll love me eventually. She has to.
Alexander Ferrar
I was relaxing at Lake Atitlan with a motley group of friends and one of them revealed his toxic personality. It started to bring us all down, and I saw how, if one followed the standard formula (the bridge back to the mainland getting destroyed by a storm, the power going out, tensions running high) we would all turn on one another within three days. What this has turned into is a Breakfast Club for 2019 full of characters who never would have existed even ten years ago.
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