Renée Gendron's Blog

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The beginning of a novel sets the tone, pace, and world of your book. The first line entices a reader, the first paragraph draws them in, and if you can pull them all to the end of the first chapter, hopefully, you’ll hook the reader for the entire book.

Depending on your genre, you might need to hook the reader by the end of the first paragraph, first chapter, or first three chapters. Literary fiction is usually more forgiving to slower starts than, say, romance or action-adventure novels. Some science fiction and fantasy also lend well to slower beginnings.

Some readers prefer to be eased into the story, allowing three or chapters before the MC beings their quest. In romance, there is a growing trend to start immediately into the problem or issue. In crime fiction, there’s a strong tendency to begin a novel with the crime. In many markets, readers don’t have the patience to allow three or four chapters before the book’s main problem, or plot begins. We are no longer live in gentle times, and writers are no longer paid by the word.

Get to the point.  

If you need pages and chapters of backstory to explain the conflict, work on condensing and improving prose. More often than not, pages of backstory can be condensed in two or three sentences to orient the reader. 

The question was raised where do you begin your story? The simple answer is the closest to the main problem or conflict of the book. What does that mean in actual terms?

Here are some questions you need to ask:

At what point does your story become interesting?
At what point does your MC have to make a critical decision? Leave a little bit of room to show the importance of the decision, the stakes, the conflict, and the world, then dive right into the story.

Where to start depends on your genre, your story, and whether or not your story is linear. If you want to tell a non-linear story, you’ll likely use in media res. You’ll insert the reader moments before an explosion or some catastrophic event and spend the rest of the book showing how your MC got to that point.

Man of Steel, The Dark Knight Rises, Sin City, and Pay it Forward are examples of movies told in a non-linear fashion.

In The Collapsing Empire by John Scalzi, there’s a prologue to situate the reader. The first chapter begins with a crisis of a dying father. The reader is plunged into an empire in crisis. The story isn’t told in flashbacks, but the MC is confronted immediately with a problem.

In my story, James and Mirabelle (working title because I always come up with my titles once the story is edited and ready for a cover, release September 2021), the opening paragraph launches the non-romance plot. Here it is unedited:

Investigator James Acker stood over the corpses of three dead moose. One cow and two calves. Their tongues an unnatural shade of blue, their eyes glazed over, with froth coming from their nostrils. James swatted away the cloud of flies, only to have them buzz around the carcasses one second later. “See the nostrils?”

“Poison,” Game Warden Maya Gladstone, his partner, said.

**

By the end of the first chapter, the reader is introduced to the romantic interest, and the story chugs along from there.

A strong beginning sets the tone and pace of the book. If you start with an action scene, the reader expects to be more action throughout the book. If you start with the MC sitting on their veranda contemplating the world, that also creates certain expectations for the reader.

In my short story (2.5k words), A New Start (upcoming anthology release date July 2021), I start with a bit of tension.

Arthur Osborne pressed flat in the brush alongside a road, his fingers curling around the stock of his Brown Bess. One squeeze of his finger, and he’d drop the enemy soldier in his sites.

**

The reader doesn’t know why Arthur is crouching, only that he’s concerned, and he’s armed. There’s also one cue as to the period with the mention of the Brown Bess (a musket). Readers are plunged into a historical.

In my fantasy romance, A Gift of Stars, I plunge the reader into immediate action. (I hope to have this book released in 2021, but this is my baby. It needs professional line edits. I’ll forgive myself for errors in other books, but not this one): 

A southerly wind blew the dry needles on the yellow cedars sending an eerie moan through the forest. A shiver raced down Lord Sanders Maksiner Persungen’s spine. He spun on his heel, sword ready, knees bent, ready to lunge into combat. But there was nothing behind him except a dense forest, shadows that played tricks on his mind, and more questions. 

**

There is an immediate sense of tension and conflict (who is he fighting?) and stakes. In a world of sword combat, fighting is up close and personal, and there is always a risk of injury. We’re introduced to the romantic interest by the end of the first chapter.

How do you know where you start your story is interesting? Here are some questions for you:

Does the opening line convey conflict?
Does the opening paragraph indicate stakes or conflict?
Does the opening line contain backstory? If so, why is the backstory needed as an opening line?
What do your beta readers say of the first page? Ask ten people to read the first page of your book. Ask them for honest feedback if they would be inclined to read on. There are countless free beta reviewer and critique boards that you can post one page of your work to receive feedback from people who don’t know you. If you can’t convince strangers to read past the first page, you need to rethink where you start your story. Remember, an author’s career is built on convincing strangers to read your work.

 

Let’s continue the conversation on Twitter. Where do you begin your stories and why? Reach out to @reneegendron

 

I’d like to thank @louSchlesinger for the topic recommendation.

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Romances rely heavily on character development. Each character has at least one internal conflict they must resolve before being in the right head and heart space to be in a romantic relationship. And, both characters need to resolve a conflict between them to earn their happy-for-now or happily-ever-after ending.

I’ll preface my discussion on character needs by saying I don’t write bully romances. I don’t write stories or books in which one character coerces the other into a romantic relationship. I find such relationships abusive and would never present them as an ideal relationship or a type of relationship worth pursuing.

I mentioned this because of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs(1). Abraham Maslow created a template of human needs. At the base of the pyramid where physical needs such as food, water, and shelter. The second tier of the pyramid is safety needs, in which an individual seeks freedom from threats and violence. The third tier pertains to belonging and love. The fourth tier relates to the need to improve one’s self-esteem, and the capstone is self-actualisation, in which an individual pursues their passion, a creative outlet, or something that brings them joy.

In most cases, people need to meet their physical and security needs before having the time and energy to pursue a romantic relationship. Yes, many individuals and characters live in precarious circumstances who dedicate time, effort, and resources to building loving relationships. Hardship does foster solidarity. It can also incite crime, hatred, and violence. The pyramid of needs is a guide, not an absolute progression between ties.

What does your character need from a romantic partner? Space and support to achieve all of the tiers of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. I’ll tie this back to my second paragraph, in which I stated I don’t write bully romances. There are some tropes in which an extremely rich and powerful character provides their romantic counterpart’s physical and security needs in exchange for a romantic relationship. Often, the one with more money and power coerces the other to stay, belittles the other’s attempts at independence or the pursuit of personal goals, or prevents them from working towards their dreams. There are many other coercive strategies used to ‘keep the other romantic partner in line’, but I won’t explore them here.

Each character has different needs. Needs change according to where they are in their journey and the overall point in the book. For example, Giselle’s story in Memories of a Walk on the Beach in Heartened by Crime. She wakes up on a beach without memory. Her primary need is to figure out who she is. She’s found by Cyprien, who takes her to his house and provides her with shelter, food, and protection from an enemy. As the story progresses, Giselle remembers, and her perception of the threat changes. Fearing for her life, she escapes from Cyprien. She regains more of her memories, and the new information again shifts her needs. The last revelation bumps her up to her need for love and belonging and protecting her love interest, Cyprien.

What did Cyprien need from Giselle throughout the story? His arc remained constant. He needed her to maintain his need for love and belonging.

Let’s consider a riches to rag tropes. Sometimes the character leads an unfulfilled but rich life, and due to a bad wager, an aggrieved parent, or misfortune, the character loses access to money. They end up broke and homeless, and they bump into the romantic lead. The romantic lead may help them on their feet, find a modest place to stay, save them from gangs, or some other act of kindness (remember, I don’t write bully romances). The relationship progresses, and the character learns a trade, gets a minimum wage paying job or uses their skills to build a business, and they work their way back up the hierarchy of needs. Sometimes characters in this trope will work their way up to self-actualisation as they realise how hollow and vacuous their previous life was.

What are the needs of the romantic counterpart? Sometimes, the one who fell from lofty heights recognises the importance of character and helps build up the romantic counterpart’s self-esteem.  Sometimes it’s self-actualisation as the formerly rich person may regain access to their fortune or amass a new or use their contacts to open doors for their romantic interest.

In When a Scot Ties the Knot by Tessa Dare, the FMC has safety needs in a pretend relationship. When the MMC arrives, he must have shelter and safety for his men. As the book progresses, the MMC helps the FMC with her esteem and self-actualisation.

There are four ways for a romantic partner to provide for their partner’s needs in a non-coercive manner. They are:

Doing it for them (be careful not to infantilise or make helpless your character. There must be a logical reason why one character is doing it for another)
Teaching
Creating opportunities and space for the character to figure it out on their own. This includes letting the other person fail and being there encourage another try 
Collaborating to reach personal and mutual goals

 

Take the book you’re reading and see which needs are required for each character and flesh out how they meet their personal needs and how their romantic interest is helping them meet their needs. Let me know on Twitter what their needs were and how they met them. @reneegendron

I want to thank @ericlinuskaplan for the topic suggestion.

(1) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maslow%27s_hierarchy_of_needs  

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Romances rely heavily on character development. Each character has at least one internal conflict they must resolve before being in the right head and heart space to be in a romantic relationship. And, both characters need to resolve a conflict between them to earn their happy-for-now or happily-ever-after ending.

I’ll preface my discussion on character needs by saying I don’t write bully romances. I don’t write stories or books in which one character coerces the other into a romantic relationship. I find such relationships abusive and would never present them as an ideal relationship or a type of relationship worth pursuing.

I mentioned this because of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs(1). Abraham Maslow created a template of human needs. At the base of the pyramid where physical needs such as food, water, and shelter. The second tier of the pyramid is safety needs, in which an individual seeks freedom from threats and violence. The third tier pertains to belonging and love. The fourth tier relates to the need to improve one’s self-esteem, and the capstone is self-actualisation, in which an individual pursues their passion, a creative outlet, or something that brings them joy.

In most cases, people need to meet their physical and security needs before having the time and energy to pursue a romantic relationship. Yes, many individuals and characters live in precarious circumstances who dedicate time, effort, and resources to building loving relationships. Hardship does foster solidarity. It can also incite crime, hatred, and violence. The pyramid of needs is a guide, not an absolute progression between ties.

What does your character need from a romantic partner? Space and support to achieve all of the tiers of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. I’ll tie this back to my second paragraph, in which I stated I don’t write bully romances. There are some tropes in which an extremely rich and powerful character provides their romantic counterpart’s physical and security needs in exchange for a romantic relationship. Often, the one with more money and power coerces the other to stay, belittles the other’s attempts at independence or the pursuit of personal goals, or prevents them from working towards their dreams. There are many other coercive strategies used to ‘keep the other romantic partner in line’, but I won’t explore them here.

Each character has different needs. Needs change according to where they are in their journey and the overall point in the book. For example, Giselle’s story in Memories of a Walk on the Beach in Heartened by Crime. She wakes up on a beach without memory. Her primary need is to figure out who she is. She’s found by Cyprien, who takes her to his house and provides her with shelter, food, and protection from an enemy. As the story progresses, Giselle remembers, and her perception of the threat changes. Fearing for her life, she escapes from Cyprien. She regains more of her memories, and the new information again shifts her needs. The last revelation bumps her up to her need for love and belonging and protecting her love interest, Cyprien.

What did Cyprien need from Giselle throughout the story? His arc remained constant. He needed her to maintain his need for love and belonging.

Let’s consider a riches to rag tropes. Sometimes the character leads an unfulfilled but rich life, and due to a bad wager, an aggrieved parent, or misfortune, the character loses access to money. They end up broke and homeless, and they bump into the romantic lead. The romantic lead may help them on their feet, find a modest place to stay, save them from gangs, or some other act of kindness (remember, I don’t write bully romances). The relationship progresses, and the character learns a trade, gets a minimum wage paying job or uses their skills to build a business, and they work their way back up the hierarchy of needs. Sometimes characters in this trope will work their way up to self-actualisation as they realise how hollow and vacuous their previous life was.

What are the needs of the romantic counterpart? Sometimes, the one who fell from lofty heights recognises the importance of character and helps build up the romantic counterpart’s self-esteem.  Sometimes it’s self-actualisation as the formerly rich person may regain access to their fortune or amass a new or use their contacts to open doors for their romantic interest.

In When a Scot Ties the Knot by Tessa Dare, the FMC has safety needs in a pretend relationship. When the MMC arrives, he must have shelter and safety for his men. As the book progresses, the MMC helps the FMC with her esteem and self-actualisation.

There are four ways for a romantic partner to provide for their partner’s needs in a non-coercive manner. They are:

Doing it for them (be careful not to infantilise or make helpless your character. There must be a logical reason why one character is doing it for another)
Teaching
Creating opportunities and space for the character to figure it out on their own. This includes letting the other person fail and being there encourage another try 
Collaborating to reach personal and mutual goals

 

Take the book you’re reading and see which needs are required for each character and flesh out how they meet their personal needs and how their romantic interest is helping them meet their needs. Let me know on Twitter what their needs were and how they met them. @reneegendron

I want to thank @ericlinuskaplan for the topic suggestion.

(1) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maslow%27s_hierarchy_of_needs  

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Ah. Sex scenes. They can be scintillating, pointless, or boring. In this blog post, I’ll go over what makes a great sex scene and things to avoid when writing them.

The first thing about sex scenes is to know their purpose. Sex for the sake of sex bothers readers because it doesn’t add to the story. Sex needs to further characterisation, advance the plot, and serve a purpose in the book.

If your character is running away from the antagonist and your MC is dodging bullets, they don’t have time for sex. It makes no sense to duck into a warehouse, find some random person, have sex, then run away, narrowly escaping enemy agents, spies, aliens, or whatever else you throw at them.

Sex must advance the plot. If you’re writing erotica, in which sex is the plot, the type of sex (location, heat, partners, etc.) must define the characters. Some characters are shy, and their personality will influence locales and types of sex. Other characters are more forward, and how and when they choose to have sex must reflect their personalities.

How can sex advance the plot?

relieve tension (Only if it’s not a chase scene. No one has sex while driving away during a car chase)
demonstrate a level of commitment in a relationship (particularly true for romances)
serve as an internal conflict for the characters (intense attraction towards one another vs problems with committing to a relationship because of unresolved issues)
demonstration of characterisation (an MC uses another person for personal gratification, develops a romantic relationship, etc.)

Where do you place sex scenes in a book? Usually, except in erotica, after the midway point of the book.  Why? The reader needs time to understand your world and character. If you place a sex scene too early in a book, the reader won’t understand its function.

Sex scenes work best as a counterpoint to other plot points. They can follow a moment of intense emotional intimacy or a spot where the characters feel confident they will accomplish their goals (and then after sex, things fall apart in many ways). Or sex scenes can serve as complications. For example, your MC finds out the person they just slept with is married with children. Additional complications include their spouse is pointing a loaded shotgun at your MC, who is still naked in bed. To give your MC a terrible day, have the spouse be in organised crime, and your MC is heavily indebted to them. Not an ideal time to renegotiate the terms of the loan, eh?

The second thing about writing sex scenes is to understand your genre. Do people expect to read a sex scene in a ____ book, and if they do, what degree of heat do they expect? Most genres lend well to sex scenes, but it hinges on how well you’ve set up the story and expectations. You set expectations by having a clear blurb and back cover. If you hint there is high heat (explicit sex), readers will know what to expect. Readers who don’t like high heat won’t buy your book (and that’s okay).

How do you set up the heat levels (to manage reader expectations?) Sexual tension. Sexual tension is defined by how much (or not) your character notices the love interest. The more your MC pays attention to the love interest, the more prepared the reader is for a high heat scene. If, however, you play down those reactions, the reader is prepared for a kiss scene or a fade to black scene.

Let’s compare two examples. The first is from my short story Frontier Love in my collection Heartened by Crime.

Mr Adams stood tall and proud, the tip of his nose red, a blue scarf pulled tight around his neck. “Here.” He reached out and cupped her hands, bringing them inside of his cloak.

Heat surged through her body. Curse her mittens and his clothes for being in the way. This must be why English ladies swooned.

**

Andrée-Anne (the FMC) is formal with her love interest—Mr. Adams. His gesture of placing her hands in his cloak is chivalrous and innocent by today’s standards. However, for Andrée-Anne and her period (colonial Canada), it is a provocative act.

 Here’s another scene from the story:

She retrieved a shirt from the basket on her feet and frowned. She held her gaze on the stitching, enjoying the sensation of Mr Adams’ gaze settling on her. The tug to look at him turned into an irresistible pull.

“Whoever stitched these,” she said, “did a poor job. The stitches couldn’t have lasted more than a day or two.”

“It’s a way of guaranteeing repeat business.”

“It’s lousy business.” Her brows knitted together. “Better to be known for good work than poor work.” She threaded her needle.

His gaze was still on her, warm and curious. A tingle raced down her spine and settled low at her centre.

**

There’s an attraction, but it’s quite innocent.

As a writer, you could amp up the attraction, build up the heat (explicitness) as the story progresses, making a high heat scene expected and welcomed.

There’s the option of a fade to black scene or alluding to sex. Mary Robinette Kowal’s Glamourist series does this exceptionally well (fade to black). Sherrilyn Kenyon’s The League series has excellent examples of high heat sex scenes.

Here’s the opening of Indebted to You in Heartened by Crime:

A splinter of awareness crept into Leigh’s thoughts. She lay on a comfortable bed, someone’s breath warmed her neck, and a protective hand rested on her hip. She lay naked, pressed against another naked body. A firm one at that.

Last night. Ah. The blond in the bar she had met while playing darts. The man with the seductive eyes, athletic body, and tongue that should be worshipped as a religion.

She sighed happily, then eased away from Steve’s embrace. Or was it Samuel? No. Something more unusual. Stockwell. His name was Stockwell.

“Where are you going?” He tightened his grip around her.

“I have to go to work.”          

“At least let me make you breakfast.”

She turned to face him, took in his angled features and the hunger in his eyes. “I have to go.” She leaned forward, pressed her lips against his for the briefest of moments, and pulled away, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed.

**

The previous night’s sexual encounter was implied but not described in detail. When sex is nonexistent or is inferred, the book is considered low heat.

The more you increase sexual tension, the more the reader expects explicit sex.

You can increase sexual tension by:

having the character increasingly notice things about the other person
create intimacy by sharing secrets or insights only with the love interest
create a sense of familiarity (finishing each other’s sentences, preparing coffee the way she likes it, etc.)
being kinder or harsher towards the love interest (kinder if they are pursuing a relationship, harsher if they are actively avoiding getting into a relationship but can’t seem to fight the attraction)
inside jokes
a shared experience that only the love interests have

I’d like to mention a third point when writing a sex scene, focus on the emotions, not the mechanics. Readers will need general information such as location and position, but they don’t need every single motion. If you add emotion, you’re deepening characterisation.

Here’s an excerpt from James’ and Mirabelle’s story. It’s a contemporary romance I aim to release in 2021. It doesn't have a name because titles come last for me. I do know the name of the series, however. This is book one of the Outdoorsman Series. It’s written but not fully edited. All errors will (I hope) be corrected by release. That said, it’s a reference point for how to write explicit sex scenes.

*

Firm hands held her hips, keeping in her place, he licked her slick folds. He flatted his tongue against her. Wet, soft, tender. Bliss.

Bright energy coiled inside of her, tightening and twisting, racing up every nerve ending. Every sense focused on him. Gentle sucking noises drowned out all sound of existence. His masculine scent, a musk that was uniquely James. His hair tickled the inside of her thigh, and that one spot on his cheek he’d missed shaving electrified her skin. His fingers spread under her, in control but gentle. His hair still glistened from their shower, now tussled from her fingers.

She shifted left; he stayed with her. She squirmed, he laughed. She shied away; he pulled away. She arched against him; he stuck his tongue out, letting her roll her hips — seeking, feeling, on the point of breaking.

A thread snapped. Muscles spasmed in delight, sending cascading pleasure through her.

Breath fled on a sighed, “James.”

***

How will this article affect how you write sex scenes? Reach out to me on Twitter to continue the conversation @reneegendron

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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I’ll focus this post on increasing tension through dialogue. Tension is the difference between what the character wants and what the character has. It stirs emotions of concern, worry, and angst in the reader. It’s tension that keeps readers turning the page because they want to know how the character will reconcile the difference.  

There are two types of dialogue: internal and verbal. Let’s start with examining internal dialogue.

Internal dialogue is the inner voice of the character. It’s what the character tells themselves as they interpret events around them and make plans to address a conflict, obstacle, event, or enemy.

How do you add tension with inner dialogue?

Make an observation the character can’t respond to directly (cultural norms, circumstances prohibit, would tip hand to enemy)
Have conflicting inner dialogue and verbal dialogue
Add a dilemma

Let’s take a look at a few examples. The first is an excerpt from Branded, a short story in the anthology Star Crossed.

***

“The stevedores are threatening to join the industrial action of the factory labourers. If we don’t contain this situation…” The Ulian’s face blanched from dark blue to light blue.

Procedures. Even this armpit of the galaxy had procedures. “Why wasn’t this in my briefing?”

*

What do you think Sergeant Major Emerlynne Turner thinks of the place? If you said ‘not much’, you’re right. Why? Because her inner dialogue, ‘armpit of the galaxy’, clearly shows her negative attitude towards the space station.

In this scene, Emerlynne needs to speak with the Chief Administrator but can’t. What are her thoughts? Procedures and how none of the reports she’s received indicated labour disputes or problems on the station.

***

Here’s an excerpt from the male lead in Branded. His name is Dallin.

“New toy?” Johansson tilted her head towards Peach.

Playmate. Partner. Perfection.

He ignored Johansson’s comment. “What have you heard of Sauer?” There. Direct. No sense in dancing around a subject when the Archimedes was a tinderbox, and someone was running around with high explosives.

*

When Dallin thinks of Emerlynne, he thinks of her as Peach. This goes to characterisation. The next line is his thoughts which add sexual tension— Playmate. Partner. Perfection.

He also doesn’t respond to the comment “New toy?” because it would tip his hand towards his feelings for Emmerlyne (Peach).

The next bit of dialogue focuses on his mission, finding Chief Administrator Sauer, who is held captive. His thoughts bring you the conflict, the problems on the station and the dangers of it exploding.

There is tension between inner dialogue and speech between his attraction towards Peach (sexual tension) and his mission (life and death). The conflict pits a visceral response (romantic interest) against logic (following the mission).

***

In my short story Frontier Love in Heartened by Crime, Andrée-Anne must save her brother. Here's an excerpt: 

Did she have any other choice? Her brother was set to hang in two weeks. “What do you propose?”

What blade did this man have capable of cutting a hangman’s noose?

“We need to get at the heart of the matter.” He took up his seat across from her and tapped the stack of files.

*

A lawyer she’s just met offers to help free her brother—one last, desperate hope. She takes Christopher up on his offer to help, but there's also a sense that she doesn't trust him. 

***

Let’s do one more example from Indebted to You, a novella in Heartened by Crime. The main character is an Ontario Provincial Police officer.

Parsons straightened. “Am I a suspect?”

Yes. Yes, Parsons was a suspect. Spouses were always suspects until evidence proved otherwise. “We need to establish a timeline of where everyone was.”

*

In the inner dialogue, you see, the MC Leigh’s thoughts as she assesses a suspect. There’s also a contrast between her thoughts and her words. Most people don’t speak their minds which creates a conflict between inner and verbal dialogue.

***

In Chemical Love, a novella in Heartened by Crime, Ine is faced with a dilemma.

“It’s been two hours. We need to get out.” Sweat beaded at the base of her hairline.

“There’s not been a ‘we’ for years.”

True. But the dagger still cut deep. She pressed her eyes closed to collect her thoughts, then opened them again to face him head-on.

He shook his almost clean-shaven head. With his current haircut, he’d be a perfect recruit for the army or the navy, perhaps the police service. “Not the way I see it.”

A silence. One that was filled with the buzzing of computers and the whirring of computer fans. The room's ventilation rattled on, sucking the stale out and pushing in a cool breeze. 

“You can’t transfer all of Harada Conglomerate’s darkest secrets.” She refused to look over her shoulder to the security cameras, but the urge was there.

“I can try.”

“You’ll fail. There isn’t enough room on that flash drive. They’ll be a security guard change in an hour, and they’ll ask questions. Questions we can’t answer. At the same time, the senior vice presidents will enter the building, they’ll settle into their desks, go over their messages, see notices of consultants working overnight. Questions will be asked, and we’ll still be in this room, transferring data.”

*

She is facing a ticking clock to get out of a computer room, and her thoughts yank her to a past relationship she had with Eichi. The dilemma is to leave him in the computer room or help him steal the files. Another layer of dilemma is to return to their relationship or leave him behind.

Now, let’s turn our attention to verbal dialogue. How do we add tension when characters are speaking? We can use the same techniques.

Here’s an excerpt from my short story, A Taste of Cognac, in the anthology In the Red Room.

“And expensive,” he said. “I wonder where he got the money.”

“A gift perhaps?”

“Who likes Frédéric that much?”

Honoré skirts around an issue that his friend isn’t liked all that much. It creates tension between what is known (observed) by both characters and what is said. They are both aristocrats, and it wouldn’t be polite to state the obvious.

***

Here’s an excerpt from the Captain and Traitor, which A Muse Bouche Review published.

“Stick to the mission,” Dulcie said. “The prince. We’re here for the information. We have to slow Indefatigable.” She ignored the inner voice that screamed her love was in danger.

*

Her commands contradict her thoughts. She focuses on the mission at the expense of her love, and that creates a dilemma.

***

For a bonus, when it comes to verbal dialogue, you can always add subtext. Here’s an example from Let it Rain.

“They’ll grow.” She planted another tender kiss against his neck and rested her head against his chest.

Rain crashed in horizontal sheets against his farm, washing away his sweat, his work, his profit.

His eyes narrowed on a flooded area of his field. “Not if this continues.”

“It’s not the only seed you’ve planted that’s taken.” She smiled against his chest. Her fingers pressed into his shoulders.

“The corn didn’t come in as well—” He chewed off his words. He blinked. Then blinked again. A third time for good measure then peeled away from Brielle.

*

Brielle tells him something important without using the words, and she lets her husband and the reader figure it out. When done right, this process of discovery can be gratifying for the reader.

How do you add tension to your dialogue? You’re encouraged to reach out to me on Twitter to discuss @reneegendron

I want to thank @LouSchlesinger for the topic suggestion for this post.

 

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Throughout my life, I’ve written a lot. I started writing historical fiction, poems, and fantasy. All of the words were, quite frankly, flat. I turned my attention to romance about seven years ago, and my stories improved. What follows is my opinion and my opinion only and keep in mind that I write 50% romance arcs and 50% non-romance arcs. As someone from my writing club recently mentioned to me, he was surprised that I classify myself as a romance writer because of all of the non-romance things in my books.

I think there’s stronger character development when a romance arc is included. All romance books have two layers of development. The first layer of development occurs at the character level. If there is one POV, then that character must address and overcome personal trauma or internal conflict before they can turn their attention to their romantic counterpart. If there are two POVs, then both characters must have personal insights to address individual problems.

When part of the book focuses on the internal character development, the character seems fuller and more relatable (at least to me). Everyone has been hurt. There’s at least one childhood event that still stings or makes you ashamed or impacts you to this day.

Maybe you were told you had to be perfect and came to the brutal (but liberating) realisation that you aren’t perfect (as all humans aren’t perfect). In trying to be perfect, you overwork, you stress, you surpass expectations to the point where other people don’t want to work with you because you make them look bad.

Maybe you were told something about your appearance and have struggled to accept and love yourself for your inner and outer beauty.

Whatever hurt, you left a mark. It’s the same with characters in romances. They need to work their way through whichever trauma or pain and earn their happily ever after.

The second layer of conflict is what keeps the lovers apart. A difference in politics, socio-economic classes, life goals, etc., must be overcome and reconciled before the couple can have their happily ever after.

This leads me to my next point. I enjoy writing stories with happy endings. A romance can have a happy-for-now ending, but most end with a happily ever after. If the ending is sad (a tragedy), then it is not a romance. Instead, it’s a love story.

There are many options when writing external conflict. There’s the conflict between the lovers that keeps them from their happily ever after. There’s the non-romance conflict. What are the characters doing? Are they going on a quest and have to battle horrible weather and harsh terrain? Are they at a ball where they need to navigate politics and social norms and gossips and competitors for a lover’s attention? Are they marching off to war to face an ancient enemy?

The non-romance arc (even in traditional romances, there is a non-romance arc) is both an independent and dependent opportunity for character and romantic relationship growth. In traditional romances, the non-romance arc has fewer words dedicated to it. Again, I strive for 50/50 romance and non-romance arcs.

By independent opportunity, I mean each character faces unique challenges. They must learn a new skill, adapt to circumstances, or defeat a foe. The characters must also learn to cooperate and grow as a couple. In the non-romance arc, characters test their resolve to help the other, develop the relationship, and cement the fact they are a couple.

I find these textures of conflict interesting to read (well, listen. I listen to 99% of my books) and write. I enjoy writing the nuances of how a similar deep hurt (let’s say low self-esteem caused by body issues as a teenager) manifest differently in adults. Each character is unique in their efforts to overcome. 

Romances pair well with every genre. You can have a romantic medical thriller, a romantic fantasy, a romantic dystopian cli-fi. Name the genre you and can always pair it with a romance arc.

I write a lot. A _lot_. More than 2.9 million words, a lot. 

I promise my readers a new story (not written to formula) each and every story. With the diversity of romance tropes and the ability to plug it into any genre, I find it stretches my writing scope. Combining different tropes (romance and non-romance) across genres flexes my writing skills and helps me create unique situations.

Romances can speak to the human element. They speak of deep heartaches, misery, overcoming trauma, and finding a way to live a full and enriched life. And, I have to admit, writing the sexual tension between the characters is fun.

What do you like about romances?

Reach out to me on Twitter @reneegendron

Thank you to @DanFitzWrites for the topic of this blog.

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Before I share my editing process with you, let me start with the caveat that I’m not a line editor. I can’t tell a dangling participle from a gerund. The process I’ll outline below is my process. You have no obligation to try it or force your way of thinking into the holes and squares I’ll describe.

For me, the editing process starts with the outline. I’m an extensive plotter. I need to know how the story ends before I start. My outlines are point-form and run 50 to 100 pages. Each outline is broken down by chapter, which indicates the POV, the central emotional, character and plot beats, conflict, and dilemmas that character faces in that chapter. I then go point-form the action, scenes, and bits of back-and-forth dialogue for each chapter.

I must know the deep hurts of the characters, some of their back story (though I will discovery write quite a bit of their back story and learn about the characters as I write), and what keeps the lovers apart.

I’m a romance writer, and my stories always have at least two layers of conflict.

The first layer is internal. These are past personal traumas unique to each character that make them unable or unwilling to enter a romantic relationship. These traumas are also obstacles to the non-romance plot. For example, a character might have been spurned by a previous lover, and they are reluctant to trust in the romantic sense and trust the other person to help them resolve the non-romance plot.

I write 50% romance and 50% non-romance arcs, and that means my characters are busy. They are solving mysteries, going on adventures, spying, beating back an enemy, ruling kingdoms, and generally doing good things for the sake of doing good things.

The second layer of conflict is what prohibits the characters from a romantic relationship. Sometimes this is dependent on solving internal conflicts first. Other times, it’s an antagonist, different beliefs, societal expectations, or other constraints the characters need to navigate and reconcile before solving the romance and the non-romance arcs.

Once I have the non-romance trope, and the romance trope sorted out, I write. [I will prattle on for hours and/or pages about tropes, but I will refrain from doing so on this blog post. I hope you appreciate the restraint I’m exercising. However, if you want to listen to me talk about tropes and mechanics, you can do so here].

My first drafts are full of bobbleheads and Cheshire cats. My characters smile at everything—drying paint, the pattern on the rug, the dust in the wind. Why? For me, a smile or a grin or a curved cheek or a twist of the lips is a place holder for an action that has meaning for the character. Meaning for a character could be a mannerism, a reaction to dialogue, an internal thought, observation or something that deepens characterisation.

Let’s take the original sentence of a western historical romance I’m writing. Below is the first version:

Before: Ruthanna released a slow breath. Nerves. Bertram was shy. She smiled inwardly. A bad encounter with a business associate added to the weight of being shy. A sliver of hope to meet the man from the letters.

The words don’t pop off the page, but the reader understands the character is nervous about meeting a woman. There’s a smile, but it doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t add emotion or characterisation.

On my second edit, I changed the passage to:

After: “Meaning what?” Maybe Bertram was shy. Shy types always did better in quiet settings. Shy types had their allure.

It’s a stronger sequence because we know her thoughts, and there’s a touch of sexual tension between her and the man she’s having dinner with. She’s willing to give him a chance because she’s intrigued by him.

With the first draft done, my characters need to visit the chiropractor for all of their bobbleheads, and they need to take elocution lessons because they all sound the same. That’s fine. It’s part of my process.

What concerns me most in the first draft if is the pieces fit. Do my chapters have strong hooks? Do my characters face enough exciting and complex problems that drive the story? Is there enough sexual tension between the romantic leads? Are there any sagging bits or places where I’ve wandered too far?

I’ll usually recognise those places as I’m writing and make notes to correct them on the second draft.

If writing is all that I do for the month, I can write an 80-100k novel. Is it in good shape? No. Is it better than the drafts I wrote a year ago? Yes. Why? Something about practice making things better. That, and black liquorice and beer. Again, that’s another post.

I’ll let my second draft sit and work on the draft of another story. Weeks, sometimes months later, I’ll revisit it. Sometimes the edit is after an alpha reader (a person who reads the first draft of a novel to critique the direction and tone of the story and not the prose) and points out major plot holes and boring characters. That’s what I ask of alpha readers. Does the story, no matter how poorly worded, work?

On the second draft, I set to the task of improving prose, eliminating bobbleheads and nervous twitches (which in romances tend to be smoothing skirts or eyebrows. At least my romances on the first-go-round). In the second draft, I’ll infuse differences in speech, bring out the internal conflict and dialogue more, and focus on sharpening the banter. I try, sometimes succeed but often fail, at increasing the tension in dialogue. Sometimes, I’ll write jokes.

In the second draft, I’ll focus on backstory. Over seven years, I’ve written 34 books, none of which are published. That said, I’ve gotten better with the years and the millions (no word of a lie—2.9 million words written, excluding drafts of the same book) of words I’ve written at reducing back story. Right now, in the first and second drafts, I’ll have three to four sentences of backstory. This means I’ll not infodump or write a character’s autobiography. I keep a character’s backstory short and sweet.

Example:

Almost thirty years of marriage and Mama never once mentioned demanded Pa greet them at train stations or keep his appointments with them. Not one word of disappointment, not one angry look, not one dinner spent in silence. It was always smiles that reached unhappy eyes, and ‘yes, dear’, and ‘we’ll make the best of it’ and let’s drag out trunks across the mud in search of Pa’s tent. 

That passage comes at the 25% mark of a western historical romance. What does that passage say to you? Does it show why the woman is reluctant to enter a relationship with the man? Does it show why the woman wants to retain her financial independence?

I’ll keep tweaking those sentences to see how much further I can condense them while retaining their emotional power. Emotional power is defined as relatability with the reader and insight into character.

During my revisions, I’ll see if those are necessary or if they need more power.

Then the story is off to the beta readers to check on transitions, hooks, and intrigue. There must be appealing sexual tension between the characters, and there must be tension in the non-romance plot. The readers need to have some degree of nervousness about whether the characters will achieve their non-romance goals.

It then becomes a cycle. The more I write and study craft (yes, I take lessons from NYT and USA Today bestselling authors, writers who have more talent and skill than me, and workshops through professional associations), the better (I hope) I become. Yes, that sentence was wordy. Yes, I need a line editor. Yes, I’m a work in progress.

I cycle through beta reads, courses, and my versions until I develop a finished product. When I have a finished product (to my non-line-editor-eyes), I put it on the shelf and save it for professional line edits. I haven’t yet reached that point, but I sense that 2021 is the cusp. My goal in 2021 to have one full-length fantasy romance novel (A Gift of Stars) professionally editor and released. My stretch goal is to have a second book (western historical romance or contemporary romance) professionally edited and released by 2021.

Here’s to lofty goals, strong sentences, characters with purpose and poise, and hooks that keep the readers flipping pages.

What is your editing process? Reach out to me on Twitter @reneegendron for a conversation.

The question I received from @LouSchlesinger that inspired this piece was about an overall editing process.

What Makes a Modern Romance Trope?

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Tropes. Romance readers love to read them and romance writers love to write them. A trope is a common plot element that is easily recognisable. Fans love them because they know what to expect in a story. If you see a picture of a woman in a puffy silk dress with her hand on the chest of a dashing man wearing a brocade waistcoat standing in front of a castle, you know you’re in a for a historical romance—most likely Regency. Regency romances are set during the British Regency period (1811-1820) or early 19th century.

Romance relies heavily on tropes to inform the reader what to expect. Some writers spend their career writing one or two tropes. Let’s see if you find any of these tropes familiar:

Enemies to lovers
A second chance at love
The girl or guy next door
Agents dating where the leads are spies or police officers or other law enforcement (customs officers, game wardens, etc.)
Highlanders
Marriage of conveniences
Marriage of necessity (to protect someone)

 

What makes these tropes modern? The first thing is agency. Agency refers to the degree of a character’s willingness to make decisions and take action to shape their futures. A character with a high degree of agency sets a goal and works towards it. Do they always achieve the goal? No, but they engage in appropriate behaviours to reach that goal. A character with no agency has things happen to them and makes no effort to improve their circumstances.

Historically, many romances had one lead character, and usually the woman, lacked agency. This was particularly true in historical romances where the female lead needed and waited to be rescued. She batted her eyelashes and smiled when she was told to marry the hero, and things happened to her. I found this trend to be particularly true in many books until the mid-2000s when both main characters started having more agency. In many ways the lack of agency was unrealistic. Historically, different constraints and pressures were imposed upon women and they did not have the same opportunities for education and careers. However, women were active in their communities, they had independent thought, desires, perspectives, knowledge, and spheres of influence.

How do you give your characters agency? Give each main character personal goals. Each main character needs to have a life outside of the romance. They need past hurts, dreams, obstacles and resources to draw from to address their goals. The more they address their goals, the better head and heart space they are in to participate in a healthy romantic relationship.

A second way to give your characters agency is for them to push back against abuse. Whether it’s emotional neglect from parents, a bully of an older sibling or neighbourhood child, a soured first love or some other deep personal trauma, there comes a time when each main character needs to push back. They might be encouraged by their romantic lead, but they need to decide to stand up for themselves. Pushing back against abuse are great scenarios for try/fail cycles. On the first attempt to be assertive, things don’t go well. The character learns, improves, and tries again—something shifts. The abuser pushes back harder. The cycle continues until the character breaks away, realises they can’t change the abuse and comes to internal terms, or rebalancing the relationship based on mutual respect.

A third way to give your characters agency is to give them meaningful decisions. Give them problems and dilemmas that force them to choose between path A and path B. Let’s suppose Emily wants to go to university. To study hard and get the grades she needs for a full scholarship, she needs to stop playing lacrosse after school. She loves lacrosse and hopes to become a professional player. She’s good enough to make the pro leagues but won’t earn enough money to support herself as a professional athlete. If she studies, she has to give up something she loves because none of the schools that offer her program of choice has a lacrosse team. No sports scholarship for her. The decision she makes will have repercussions on her future and create different life strategies.

Remember, some decisions can’t be undone. They will haunt or buoy a character for the rest of their lives. Make sure that each character has at least one critical personal choice to make for their personal goals and one critical choice about the relationship. Generally, the more meaningful choices or dilemmas you give a character, the more robust their arc. Romances are driven by character development, and romance readers relish personal struggle and triumph.

Individual Goals. Decisions with consequences. Dilemmas that alter the future. That’s what makes any trope modern.

How do you give your character agency? Feel free to reach out to me on Twitter.

I want to thank @SStaatz for the topic suggestion.

It’s a long title, I know. I’m used to writing 80,000-100,000-word books, not catching marketing slogans. Bear with me. I promise the article will be more interesting than its title.

In a previous post, I discussed the importance of conflict to keep the reader engaged. I also mentioned that a conflict evolves until the character learns to address it or fails, and the book ends in a tragedy.

Let’s turn our attention to power. Power can be coercive (use of violence and threats of violence to achieve a goal). Power can be non-coercive (a person held in high esteem in a community may make requests, and a person fulfils them out of their own volition). Power can be in your face (soldiers from an invading army marching down a street). Power can be subtle (your sister has your parents wrapped around her little finger no matter what she does).

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Power can be harmful, and it can be empowering. It depends on the wielder of the power and what they do with it. Let’s consider a nine-year-old MC who is bullied. The MC can use coercive power to stop the bullying (punch the bully in the face). They can use non-coercive power (reason with the bully, tell their parents, or inform their school principal). Here’s where power gets interesting. The nine-year-old can ask to arrange circumstances for other, larger children to be present the next day to protect them (subtle use of power). Or the MC can walk home with their two older siblings (obvious use of power).

Power is an essential concept in writing because it’s the consequence of a conflict. Let’s take a look at Star Wars. A group of rebels fight against an oppressive government. The empire exerts power in all four ways mentioned. The obvious ways are violence and coercion. It’s a war, and people fight and die. The empire also has non-coercive means of exerting its influence by paying people to give them information. The loyalty between the emperor and the Sith is also a form of subtle power. The relationship between Qi’ra and Han Solo is another form of non-coercive power that ends in tragedy.

To craft exciting characters and stories, all forms of power need to be applied. Why? Even in cases of evil empires and oppression, the oppressor uses different forms of power. Why? Using in-your-face coercive force uses an incredible amount of energy, time, and effort. I don’t understand the economics of the Star Wars universe. It seems every movie has massive rebel and imperial fleets destroyed without obvious means to replenish them (particularly on the rebel side where they are always running from secret base to secret base).

The more violent the coercion, the more effort it takes. Coercion doesn’t always mean physical force in the form of armies. Coercion can also mean verbal or social pressures. Think of Regency romances where many plots revolve around the ‘ton’ and the ‘ball.’ All eyes follow MC1 around the ballroom, waiting for them to make a mistake—drop a napkin, stain their clothes, speak out of turn, dance with the wrong person (social norms with high personal stakes). There are many backhanded compliments, people looking down their noses at someone, exclusion because they aren’t from the right background, and a lot of effort is put into gossiping and keeping on top of who was invited to which party. These factors combine to create social coercion or, in modern terms, the fear of mission out (FOMO). To assuage this fear, people conform. Often, great characters are the ones who resist social coercion and forge their path.

Remember, power takes energy and effort to exert. If you wonder why certain people were popular in high school, it’s because they worked at it. The popular set spent a lot of time interacting, showing up for each other’s events and activities, communicating, and engaging in each other’s lives. That’s a lot of work, but they get their rewards.

The MC has a conflict with someone or something. The antagonist (sometimes villain, but I’ll use the term antagonist) may be a person, alien, animal, or weather pattern. The antagonist uses different forms of power to realise their goal.

Let’s look at the example of a natural disaster. The first power exerted is violence. The flood or flow of lava forces people to move from a location they didn’t want to leave. Although a natural disaster doesn’t have intelligence or intent, it also exerts subtle forms of power. These forms include changes in temperature, which have consequences on the MC. A natural disaster also has subtle forms of power. A change in the river’s current can have other indirect consequences on the MC, such as introducing a new species in the waterway (perhaps sharks now swim in freshwater).

Power isn’t absolute. The rebels keep fighting against the empire. One spouse has more power when it comes to money, but the other spouse wields more power when it comes to family and friends. Your MC is excellent at work and is at the top of their game, but their personal life is in shambles.

Power is conditional and situational and ebbs and flows with a character’s personal growth (or regression), resources, knowledge, physical environment, and circumstances. Think of any movie in which two characters trade places—usually, a billionaire character trades places with someone poor. Due to the story’s constraints, the rich person no longer has that power and flounders like a fish out of the water until they reassert themselves, redefine how they manifest power, and regain control over their lives).

When you play around with both the MC and the antagonist’s type of power, you create fuller characters and a more nuanced world. Villains who only know how to punch are two-dimensional. MCs who only know how to appeal to authority (their parent, boss, police, etc.) miss growth opportunities.

Take a look at your WIP and sort through the types of power your MC and antagonist use.

Does your MC rely on only one type of power? Why is that?
Does your antagonist rely on only one type of power? Why is that?
What can you do to flesh out different types of power in your WIP?
What consequences do these new types of power have on character development, plot development and world-building?

 

Feel free to reach out to me on Twitter with your answers.

I’ll be putting together a series of webinars on conflict. If you’re interested in knowing more, please send me a note that says ‘conflict’. If you sign up to my newsletter, you’ll receive a free writing exercise. Be sure to put ‘conflict’ in the comment box.

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We’ve all heard the phrase ‘conflict drives the plot.’  What does it mean?

We’re writers. Let’s start at the beginning. What is conflict? Conflict is a clash of rights, power, interests, processes and values. It’s something I want but can’t have. It can be violent or non-violent and oscillate between the two. A conflict that started over a difference in interests can shift over time and manifest as a difference in power and rights.

Conflict manifests in several ways, including internal (you have to overcome doubt), interpersonal between a dyad (you had a spat with your spouse), and inter-group conflict (such as gang warfare or war between nations).

How does conflict drive the plot? The main character must address specific problems, constraints, and dilemmas to achieve their goal (in a happy ending) or consistently fail to address these issues and fall further and further behind their objective (a tragedy).

A conflict must be complicated enough to have consequences on the story throughout the book. If a couple argues over what to have for dinner and becomes the book’s central conflict, the reader will disengage. Why? It’s challenging to keep a reader’s attention for 80,000 words when the couple is bickering over the same thing.

However, if the argument over what to have for dinner is symbolic of deeper issues, the author can mine the conflict and find deeper conflicts. For one partner, their internal conflict is shame at having an affair. For the other partner, their internal conflict revolves around forgiving the other person or leaving the relationship. Their interpersonal conflict (dyad) centres around a lack of communication and neglecting their relationship for years. Their group conflict may stem from family and cultural norms to stick to stay married no matter what.

In the above scenario, the couple cannot resolve the superficial issue of dinner until they address their individual conflicts. Why start with the individual? Ever think it’s easier to change the world than it is yourself? It’s like that with conflict. When people are in a high-conflict situation, they use their power (I’ll get into the concept of power in another post) to try to force change onto another. Sometimes they negotiate; most of the time, they use varying non-violent and violent coercive measures to get the other party to change.

When all of your characters’ attention is focused on changing the other, they miss introspection and growth opportunities. Without growth, there is no moment of insight that provokes a change of personal behaviour. Whether you are writing a plot-driven or a character-driven book, there are key moments in the story where the character needs an increase in awareness to resolve the conflict. Let’s take the movie Ender’s Game. A team of soldiers train to participate in a military campaign. The main character risks everything on an end-all strategy and wins. However, the main character has a moment of insight after his military win, which shatters his view of the war. The main character uses knowledge and drastically alters his behaviour.

If your characters are entirely focused on changing the other, they risk disempowerment. Why? They are not taking action to create the future they want to see and are not making the most out of whatever resources and opportunities they must shape their futures. For characters to be active, they need to make choices, execute the decisions, and address the consequences. When characters wait for others to change, they risk being pouty and whiny. A character can stomp their feet and stick out their lower lip for one scene, perhaps two, but no one wants to read about a petulant main character for the entire book. Adult characters shouldn’t throw temper tantrums because they didn’t get the soup of their choice. You get to use pouting or a temper tantrum once to demonstrate deeper problems, but you must move on to keep the story interesting.

There’s a dynamic interplay between internal conflict and the conflict dyad. Let’s explore this dyad a little more. MC 1 wants MC2 to do the dishes. MC2 refuses to do so, saying they have worked all day and are tired. MC1 has a choice to escalate the conflict and drudge up all of the past wrongs, and they do, and the conflict escalates into a shouting match and MC2 heading over to their friend’s house for the night.

Does that resolve the conflict? No. Did it make the conflict worse? Yes. Did it make the conflict more interesting for the reader? It depends on what happens at the friend’s house and how it gets worse for the individuals and the couple.

It’s two days later, and MC2 returns home. MC1 needs to use the car tomorrow because they have doctor appointments. MC2 objects because they have to travel to a rural area for their job, and they don’t want to drive across town at 07h30 to drop them off at their appointment early, then drive two hours in the opposite direction. The argument escalates. MC1 says MC2 was willing to find alternatives at the beginning of their relationship and slams the door to the bedroom. MC2 sits on the sofa and contemplates and recalls times when they were more accommodating and willing to find mutually agreeable solutions. Does it change MC2’s actions right away? No. It does spark a realisation in MC2 by comparing and contrasting who they were to who they are right now. The writer introduces more and more of these opportunities for reflection until the character is in the headspace to address the interpersonal or group conflict.

Ah, but you write plot-driven books. It’s the same dyad between interpersonal and group conflicts. When you are at war, there’s a learning curve. You need to understand your foe’s military strategy, their command structure, their objectives. Insight, in this case, comes from understanding what motivates them.

Information needs to be shaken loose for different decisions to be made. Moreover, the MC’s information must be internalised, and the MC must change their behaviour to achieve their goal.

Here’s an exercise for you:

What is the central conflict in your WIP?
What are three ways in which your MC(s) directly address the conflict?
Are the ways your MC(s) addresses the problem the same? If so, how can you make them unique and more complex? Remember, your MC(s) is engaging the problem, and they should learn and get better (or worse)
What are the consequences of their three approaches?
Are the consequences of your approaches the same?
How can you make the consequences more interesting to challenge your MC further and force them to learn a lesson before advancing to the next problem?

If you are interested in learning more about conflict and plots, reach out to me through my contact form with ‘conflict webinar’ in the text. I’ll be putting together a series of webinars.

Feel free to reach out to me on Twitter to let me know how you fared with the exercise.