Outlining Your Novel_Map Your Way to Success

by K. M. Weiland

  Biggest embarrassment:

  Cares about most:

  Secrets:

  If he could do one thing and succeed at it, what would it be?

  He is the kind of person who:

  What do you love most about him?

  Why will the reader sympathize with him right away?

  How is he ordinary or extraordinary?

  How is his situation ordinary or extraordinary?

  Core need:

  Anecdote (defining moment):

  History:

  Although you can answer the questions by simply filling in the blanks (e.g., Overall outlook on life: Cynical), you can allow your imagination more freedom by working the problem out longhand in your notebook, writing down and fleshing out your every idea. For example, here’s what I wrote about Behold the Dawn’s Marcus Annan, in response to “Strongest/weakest character traits” and “How do other people view him?”:

  Annan’s strong trait is the light of a moral core that refuses to be dampened despite the ashes of sin and despair heaped upon it. There is a line Annan will not cross. He has walked upon it many times, but he will not be pushed over.

  He has many weaknesses. His temper, backed by all of his formidable strength and power, is a weapon to be feared. He kills without thought, though, ironically, he is also quick to defend others. He is a man of conundrums. He kills and yet, for some things, he’s willing to be killed. He hates, and yet he hates his hatred. He is a man of passion, yet also of discipline.

  Annan is not interested in being liked. He is interested in being effective. Nonetheless, on some occasions, he has been noted to make favorable impressions, either through his fighting skills or some flash of virtue, most frequently generosity. He’s a good man to have at your side in a fight.

  Freehand Interview

  If your character turns out to be the closemouthed type who refuses to let you into his deeper psyche, try a “freehand interview.” Instead of forcing your character into the rigidity of the set questions in a regular interview, just throw him onto the page and start asking him questions: What’s the matter with you? What are you hiding from me? It’s always surprising how many unexpected confessions you can drag out of your characters. Your freehand interview might end up looking something like this:

  Author: Why are you being so uncooperative?

  Character: Why are you asking stupid questions?

  Author: Because I need you to do what I tell you. I need you to show some fight to your wicked stepmother, instead of just pouting and taking it.

  Character: That is so easy for you to say. You don’t know my stepmother. And besides I’m not just taking it. Somebody has to do the chores around here and take care of my baby stepsisters. If I don’t do it, we’ll all die in filthy misery.

  Author: But why should you have to do everything? You’ve got your rights. Don’t you think your stepsisters—not to mention your stepmother—should take their share of the responsibilities? Why shouldn’t they have to sweep the cinders out of the fireplace every now and then?

  Character: They’re delicate.

  Author: They’re not delicate. They’re pampered. If you got out of the way and stopped babying them and letting them walk all over you, maybe they’d actually grow up into responsible human beings.

  Character: They need me. Without me, they’d never survive.

  Author: They don’t need you. They’re using you.

  Character: That is not true!

  Author: Why do you need to be needed so badly?

  Character: Because—I don’t know—

  Author: C’mon, say it.

  Character: Because if they don’t need me, they won’t love me!

  And, voila, suddenly you know something new and interesting about your character and her motivations.

  Enneagram

  In general, I’m not a fan of using personality tests (such as the popular Myers-Briggs Type Indicator) to flesh out characters. Trying to force a character to fit a personality framework, rather than allowing him to evolve organically, can leave you with a cardboard cutout, instead of a unique and compelling character. However, because of its simplicity, I occasionally utilize the enneagram to make sure my characters’ personality traits (particularly strengths and weaknesses) are balanced. The enneagram is a typology of human personalities that aligns character traits to one of nine categories.

  Visit http://www.booklaurie.com/workshops_flaw.php for an explanation of the enneagram designed specifically for writers. Not only is it fascinating reading, it can help you round out a character, summarize his personality, and identify his “fatal flaw.” For example, in the early stages of discovering Dreamlander’s characters, I scanned the enneagram list and realized my protagonist Chris Redston was an Enthusiast, constantly in search of fulfillment and gratification through the next big adrenaline trip. Another main character, Allara Katadin, was a Reformer, burning herself up with guilt and anger over her failed attempts to make her world a better place. The enneagram didn’t tell me new things about my characters, so much as it helped me put into concrete terms things I already knew.

  Chapter Seven Checklist

  Interview your character.

  Write a freehand interview of your character.

  Use the enneagram to identify your character’s personality and “fatal flaw.”

  Asking the Authors: Aggie Villanueva

  Bio: The author of the historical novels Chase the Wind and Rightfully Mine (Thomas Nelson), Aggie Villanueva is the founder of Promotion á la Carte, an author promotional service, voted #2 in Preditors & Editors’ Promotion category. Visit her at http://www.promotionalacarte.com.

  Can you describe your outlining process?

  With ancient-history fiction I create a very short paragraph-style outline of what I already know of the story, and, as research advances, I make delightful discoveries and flesh out a detailed outline, written in text format, not numerical. Of course the outline changes and grows and becomes wonderfully complex during the year or so of research I usually need to be ready to write.

  What is the greatest benefit of outlining?

  Probably my own greatest benefit is the character definition that results from my triple-play outlining style: Outline/Research/Characterize. These are inseparable. First, I start researching every level of my historical period. This adds vitalizing details to the outline, which expands/changes because of the research. I simultaneously write volumes of first-person narratives by each main character, not about the story necessarily, but about a childhood memory they can’t forget, a bio of themselves as if they’re preparing it for a dating site, favorite things and why, etc. The characterization is simultaneous because it grows naturally out of the outlining and research. For instance, I might discover a little-known everyday life detail so pertinent to a scene in my outline that it totally changes it, all for the better, making my readers feel like they’ve always lived in that time period and known that character. Hand-in-hand outlining and research molds my characterizations.

  And, of course, an outline comes in handy when a synopsis is requested. At that point, I create the numerical outline form from the reams I’ve written about the story.

  What is the biggest pitfall of outlining?

  A common pitfall for me comes from using the Roman numeral outline format. This system is so dry it can create a distance between me and my characters and my story that I’m unaware of. Beware of anything that can drive such a wedge.

  Do you recommend “pantsing” for certain situations and outlining for others?

  Though my outlines are so informal as to not even be recognizable as outlines, they are actually very detailed and exact. I’ve never really tried pantsing, since my fiction is historical and demands minute detail recall, which I could never accomplish with just my lil’ ol’ brain. But the triple-play style is almost more like writing a separate book, especially the first-person reams written “by” the main characters, and even some minor ones.

/>   What’s the most important contributing factor to a successful outlining experience?

  Staying loose. Outline in the way most natural to you and your characters and your story, and even allow it to change from book to book if needed.

  Chapter Eight

  Discovering Your Setting

  “You are always looking for ways to deliver character to your reader. One of the most important and ready ways of doing that is through the character’s interaction with his or her city…. Because he is really contemplating himself.”

  —Michael Connelly22

  Setting is sometimes the neglected stepchild of the writing world. We lavish attention on our characters and plot, but don’t always remember how powerful a fabulous setting can be. Some genres, particularly those that fall within the realm of speculative fiction, tend to give more attention to setting, simply because their stories require intensive world building. But whatever your genre, you can borrow a page from fantasy writers and watch and learn from their detailed and engaging settings. You’ll be hard-pressed to find a better example than The Final Empire, the first book in Brandon Sanderson’s Mistborn series. The unique world he creates in this story is exquisite in its detail and verisimilitude. But the true power of his setting is grounded in a couple of hard facts.

  • Fact #1: This world plays a much bigger role than that of a mere backdrop, a two-dimensional painting on the stage behind the actors. If your settings aren’t intrinsic to your stories to the extent of almost being a character unto themselves, you’re wasting an important opportunity.

  • Fact #2: Sanderson brings his setting to life through a deft administration of details: not too many, not too few. He highlights the details that are important—the unique and pertinent points—by exemplifying them through his characters’ interactions with the world. The lesson we all need to learn from this is how to find just the right telling detail to similarly bring our own scenes to life for our readers.

  Depending on the type of story you write, the setting may be little more than an afterthought, an arbitrary decision made simply because your characters have to live somewhere. In the best stories, however, setting is an inherent element in bringing to life not just the scenery but also the characters themselves. As such, it isn’t something we can afford to overlook. Asking yourself the following questions during the outlining stage will strengthen the weak points in your setting construction and help you use it to its full potential.

  Is Your Setting Inherent to Your Story?

  In some stories, the setting is so important that to change it would mean changing the entire plot. In Empire of the Sun, J.G. Ballard’s novelization of his boyhood in a Japanese POW camp during World War II, the setting, first in Shanghai, then in the civilian prisoner camp, cannot possibly be separated from the story itself. The power of the unique setting and the vivid word pictures in which Ballard paints make this book breathe. In contrast, the sequel The Kindness of Women, which takes place when the author/hero is a grown man living in England, fails to share the original’s strong sense of place—and as a result never comes close to achieving the same power.

  How Does Your Character View His Setting?

  Bestselling mystery author Elizabeth George points out that “through a character’s environment, you show who he is.”23 The way your character interacts with the landscape around him, with the familiarities of his home, and with the broader scope of his city give you insight into the character himself. Does he hate where he lives? If so, why is he still living there? Did he grow up there? If so, how did it shape him? In his narrative reaction to these places, he’s not just musing about the setting, he’s revealing truths about himself.

  Does Your Setting Affect the Mood?

  Setting, more than any other facet of the story, allows us the most flexibility for creating mood and pacing. The ominous thunderheads gathering above the protagonist’s cornfield, the forbidding chill around the abandoned shack on the side of the road, the stuffy air inside a funeral home—all these bits of setting serve to inform the reader of the mood you’re trying to set.

  Are You Using Too Many Settings?

  Settings are more than scenery. They’re the cohesive grounding—the foundation of the whole story—and as such they need to be used with sparing care. The most powerful stories are those distilled to their inherent ingredients by removing extraneous information that detracts from their potent focus. Introducing a slew of settings is much like introducing a slew of characters: The reader’s attention fragments, and both the writer and the reader have to spend more time and effort to keep track of details and orient their emotional connection. Following are some tips for distilling your settings to the perfect number:

  • Choose your primary settings wisely. Setting should never be an arbitrary decision. Instead of throwing your characters into the first locale that pops to mind, consider the needs of your story. You’re going to be spending a lot of time in this setting, so you need to choose a place that will enhance the requirements of your plot.

  • Utilize and explore your primary setting. Once you’ve decided upon an interesting setting, take advantage of it. If your character is in a prisoner of war camp, a spaceship, a cattle ranch, or a Victorian mansion, then use every nook and cranny to further your story and hold your reader’s attention. Readers would much rather explore one fascinating setting than catch only a glimpse of half a dozen.

  • Combine settings. Streamline your sub-settings by combining them wherever possible. Instead of sending your protagonist to a restaurant, a pub, and a food fair, try combining them. This eliminates the need to describe a new setting in every scene, allows your readers the satisfaction of returning to a familiar place, and presents deepening layers of possibilities with recurring minor characters.

  • Foreshadow settings. Maintaining only necessary settings allows you rich opportunities for foreshadowing. When important scenes occur in familiar settings, it’s that much easier to lay the groundwork in earlier scenes, thus bringing your characters full circle and providing a gratifying sense of closure for readers.

  As one of the most important resources in your possession, settings need to be utilized wisely and frugally so they can bring their full impact to the story. Choose your settings carefully. Don’t settle for the obvious answers. Look beyond clichés, and examine the needs of your story to find the most appropriate setting. Then juice it for every drop of usefulness. If you can bring the setting to life as a character in its own right, you’ll be that much closer to creating a story your readers will never forget.

  World Building

  In many genres, the setting is little more than a necessary backdrop, culled from the author’s real life or research for any number of necessary or arbitrary reasons. Before writing Dreamlander, my experience with historical fiction allowed me to drop all my characters into real-life settings. I didn’t have to create settings; all I had to do was reconstruct them from my own memory (the Wyoming setting in A Man Called Outlaw) or my research (the European and Middle Eastern settings in Behold the Dawn). But when I embarked into the magical world of fantasy with Dreamlander, I was presented with a wonderful new opportunity: I was no longer constrained by the facts. Instead, I had the freedom to create an entirely new world where anything could happen.

  In the face of all these possibilities, authors can easily become overwhelmed. Where do we start? How do we create a world that not only incorporates beautiful and fascinatingly bizarre elements, but also one that is solid and realistic in every detail, from landscape to government? The first, and hopefully most obvious, answer is to let your imagination run riot. Force yourself to think outside the box, to reject clichés, and to hunt down ideas that excite you with their color and originality.

  But you’re also going to want to get as specific as you can. The interview process you used in getting to know your characters can also be applied to your setting. Fantasy author Patricia C. Wrede has compiled a fabulously complete list of Fan
tasy Worldbuilding Questions, which you can find at sfwa.org/2009/08/fantasy-world building-questions. I won’t attempt to retread her ground, but below is an overview of subjects and questions to keep in mind as you develop your speculative setting:

  What does the landscape look like?

  What kinds of plants grow here?

  What’s the climate?

  What kinds of animals are present in this world?

  What kinds of societies are found in this world?

  What kinds of clothing are in style?

  What moral and religious values define people’s world views?

  What language(s) do they speak?

  What form of government is currently in place?

  How advanced is technology?

  What forms of long-distance communication are used?

  What modes of transportation are available?

  How has technology affected entertainment and the arts?

  How has technology affected weaponry and modes of war fare?

  How advanced are the fields of medicine and science?

  What are the natural laws of this world?

  Which natural laws are different from our world (e.g., gravity)?

  Is there a magical force in your world? How does it work? What are its limitations?

  What kinds of people populate this world?

  Are there different races?

  How do customs differ between people of different races and citizens of different districts?

  Do the ethnic factions get along?

  What’s the history of this world?

  How many years of recorded history are available?

  What historical epochs have shaped society?

  Answer these questions just as you did those in the Character Interview. Let your imagination run wild as you record every idea—no matter how silly it may initially seem. What you come up with may look a bit like my answer regarding art and entertainment in Dreamlander: