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David Corbett—New York Times Notable author of many novels including Blood of Paradise (2007), Do They Know I’m running (2010), and The Mercy of the Night (2015)—published a sparkling, extremely-helpful nonfiction writers’ guide in 2013 entitled, “The Art of Character.”

In this book, he touches on many aspects of fine, intelligent, deep, 3-D characterization not only for writing books—literature—but for other mediums, thus the subtitle of the work: “Creating Memorable Characters for Fiction, Film, and TV.”

Amongst the nearly 400 pages of astute, deft suggestions concerning how to pen purposeful, profound people on the page, Corbett uses Greek tragedy, modern psychoanalysis, and the psychology of Myth to demonstrate, from many vantage points, how one can deepen their conception and understanding of literary characters.

One of the most helpful conceptions and guidelines, in my humble opinion, is his “Five Cornerstones of Characterization.” I realized while reading “The Art of Character” that much of what he writes about is, for many writers, for the most part intuitive. And yet, as a freelance book editor, I can’t tell you how many manuscripts I read year-round that lack the basic essentials of these five incredibly helpful (and I’d vote just about necessary) points. It is far too easy for a novel to begin delving, blurring into the far-reaching and terrible Death Land of anecdote, veering dangerously far away from any semblance of “plot” or “deep characterization.”

That’s not to say that some great works of literature lack essential plot: On the Road; The Sun Also Rises. But these books contain fantastic, powerful characters which push us to both empathize, understand, care, and thus keep turning the pages. And that is, I believe, the most important, crucial point here: A writer’s job is to make a reader care. If we don’t care—about your characters—the fact of the matter is we’re going to stop reading. Simple as that.

You can write a more literary, “character-driven” novel, even to a certain extent devoid of plot, but it still must contain strong, believable, well-rounded and developed characters, must contain real drama, must play with tension and conflict, must draw us in and hold us, make us give a crap about who and why.

Therefore, I posit that character, itself, is the most important ingredient of a novel. Without plot, you can still survive with deep characters we care about, as mentioned above. But without good characters—exhibiting 2-D, flat, weak characters we can’t relate to and we don’t care about—you are dead in the literary water. (Best bet is both good characters and a solid plot.)

Here are the Five Cornerstones of Characterization, as provided by David Corbett from “The Art of Character: Creating Memorable Characters for Fiction, Film and TV.” (Taken from page 48 of the book. Slightly edited/modified for simplicity/clarity.)

  1. The character needs or wants something

  2. She is having difficulty getting what she needs or wants, and comes up with a plan for overcoming that difficulty

  3. She exhibits a seeming contradiction

  4. Something unexpected happens (she makes a mistake), which renders her vulnerable

  5. There is a secret

The main thing here, and what he constantly mentions in the book, is this notion of desire. The main character—your protagonist—must have some kind of need/want/desire, driving him or her forward. There must be something they’re trying to get: love (internal and/or external); redemption; salvation; revenge; a lover’s attention; a best friend; success; etc. Corbett talks about internal versus external needs and wants, how the two often play against each other. There is often a clear exterior want/desire, which if preferred so that readers have a clear notion of the main character’s drive.

But underneath that external drive/desire/need/want/yearning, is something deeper, a more internal longing that might either add to the external want or even play against it (which creates fantastic tension).

But the point here, your main character must have a desire and the story must be driven principally by that desire. As we go along, we’ll discover, bit by bit, that a deeper internal desire exists within the character’s interior world. But also, cornerstone #2 suggests that the character will soon bump up against the obvious: a series of hurdles preventing them from achieving their goal of getting what they desire (externally and/or internally). This creates drama and tension. When a character has something they want and they try to get that thing and are prevented from getting it due to another character who has an opposing desire/want/need…now we have good drama. This is the stuff of great fiction. (The Hunger Games; The Girl on the Train.)

I won’t get into the final 3 cornerstones—I’ll let you think about them on your own, ponder their wisdom, and read “The Art of Character” to discover more depth—but I will say that one thing I’ve noticed in my own [published] writing (and another point Corbett discusses) is that in order to truly find out what a main character’s true desire might be, and how that might come into conflict with another character, and how the external might conflict with the internal, you have to mine your own life.

Write a list down of some of the bigger things in your life, external things, you’ve consciously been aware of “wanting,” “needing,” “desiring.” If you’re honest with yourself, that’s a long list, even just considering for half an hour. Now add to the list the internal things you’ve desired; love, attention, closer friends, a particular type of respect, more open and honest conversation, less politically correct discussions in social settings; whatever.

Now take those two columns and add to each how many of those desires were thwarted for whatever reason: some might be due to time issues; some to your own shortcomings; some to shame, guilt, fear; some to external forces, other people who prevented you somehow from achieving your external goals (or internal ones); etc. The point here is to get you thinking deeply about how to craft an intriguing, realistic, believable, 3-D protagonist (and more minor characters, too, as well as the villain) in your writing. Because, again, if we don’t buy your characters—if we can’t envision them existing in real life, with all our problems, insecurities, failures, joys, loves, pride—we’ll never care enough to finish your book.

And that’s what we all want: For readers to finish our books. (And to write great, compelling characters that almost literally jump off the page.)

Have at it, hoss. Give it a go.

Michael Mohr

P.B.S. (Not the News station; Post Blog Script): Two final notes.

1) I am a freelance book editor (click here to see one of my recent clients), former literary agent’s assistant and published writer. My work can be found in the following: Fiction Magazines; Flash; Tincture; Alfie Dog Press (click here to buy my fiction); Mountain Tales Press; MacGuffin; Milvia Street; Writer’s Digest (guest blogger); The Kimberley Cameron & Associates [literary agency]blog; The San Francisco Writers Conference Newsletter; and more.

If you have a novel or memoir (prefer literary/realistic but will look at genre work) please send me the first 20 pages to: michaelmohreditor@gmail.com. If the work seems like a potential fit I will provide a short free test edit for your perusal.

2) I am currently reading the literary sensation—“The Girls,” a fictionalized Manson Family saga—by mid-twenties debut author Emma Cline, from Northern California. I plan on seeing her read live next week in San Francisco. So far I am loving her book. Her novel recently went into a bidding war and she won a heralded $2 million advance from Random House, with a 3-book contract. Obviously, they foresee a long future with this new, young writer. I bring this up because I plan on blogging about the book when I am finished with it. Within the next week or two, depending on time constraints. Also, if possible, I might even try getting an interview with Cline. We’ll see if I can pull that off.

Till next time.

Write on.

MM



It has taken me years and years of writing my own novels, stories and nonfiction, not to mention editing countless others’ manuscripts, to finally over time realize that there is such a thing as bread and meat in writing.

What the hell am I talking about? Simple. I am constantly telling my book clients to work on SCENE versus summary, back story, explanation. Basically the old Tried and True: Show don’t tell. Of course your novel needs some back story, to explain what happened to the character prior to now, ergo illuminating the character’s psychological/emotional wound, which is relevant to the current story being told. Yes, we sometimes need some well-written TELLING sections, also explaining important moments or key ideas in the book.

But, for the most part, you’re going to land your readers’ love of the characters, setting, conflict, tension, plot, etc, by SHOWING us what happens, aka, by using SCENES. In other words: action. Make the characters actually DO things, interact, bump into each other, react, fight, argue. But make sure that their fighting and arguing and conflict actually moves the story forward. When A happens it must force B to happen which will initiate C. If characters simply fight or argue and nothing results from that…essentially that is anecdotal and is not relevant because it doesn’t truly drive the story forward. That’s a lack of plot issue.

Here’s where the “bread and meat” idea comes in. This is a common mistake. When you have your scene in mind—and every chapter should contain scene; characters doing things—it is your job, as the author, to get us to that scene, the authentic driver of the story and plot, as fast as you can. I see this all the time: pages upon pages of setup (the bread) before we finally get to the scene (the meat). I refer to them as bread and meat because, like bread being full of carbs, an opening anecdotal setup in a chapter is full of carbs: It might be tasty and filling for a second, but soon you’ll be hungry again. You need meat. Protein. The solution is to eliminate or severely trim down that slow, boring opening stuff and lead us as directly as possible to the scene that actually contributes to the story.

Again, I am not, for the sake of clarification here, suggesting that 100 percent of your novel should be action. That would be too much. Even in thriller novels you need introspection, character development, and telling sections that expound upon the thoughts and ideas, emotions, etc of the characters and the plot. There’s no escaping that. But again, for the vast majority of novels, you must face off with scenes, your character moving and grooving, shaking and baking. They have to interact and react to push the story forward.

So my advice? Go through each chapter of your book and check to see how long it takes in each chapter to get from A to B, from the bread to the meat. Cut down the bread or eliminate the bread as much as possible. Think of it as trying to lose weight. Bread isn’t going to be your friend. (For vegetarians out there, I’m sorry.) You have to write your True North when you write novels; you have to come from the heart. No one can deny that. On the flip side, you have to consider your readers. Most readers are just like you: They have busy lives, husbands and wives, kids, work, etc. In other words: They have limited time. Every author has a nonverbal contract with their reader: This will be an interesting, worthy, worth it journey; you won’t regret plowing through 300 pages of my book. It’s sort of an Author’s Promise to the reader. Some call it the “physics of reading,” this notion that there are unspoken “rules” you must more or less follow in order to keep readers’ respect and interest. No doubt it is a hire-wire chore, especially throwing craft into the bag. You must write well, write true, and yet also write entertainingly.

Give it a try on your own novel or short story. Reread your work with objective eyes. If you can’t, then put it away for a month, work on other projects, and return to it when ready. Or hand it to someone you trust, giving them a red pen. Next, try your best (or ask your friend to try their best) to cut out/trim as much from before the “meat” scene as you can. Do this with a few chapters and then reread it. See how much faster and more interesting the story becomes? Usually, the “bread” is really the fear of the author (thinking the reader “needs to understand” A, B and C) and the scene is the actual story. Walk through your fear and get us to the story. Believe in yourself and the reader is that much more likely to believe in the fictional world you’ve created.

Go for it.

Out for now. See you next week.

Write on.

Michael Mohr



First off, I want to apologize for the lengthy 3-month delay in blog post material, and to say hello once again after such a pause. I was traveling Europe and ended up hiking the majority of the 500-mile Camino de Santiago (“The Way of Saint James”) spiritual pilgrimage in Northern Spain. It took me 29 days. Ever see the film, “The Way,” with Martin Sheen and Emilio Estevez (2010)? That’s what I did. No doubt I will have many more stories now to tell. And not enough time to write them.

When I was on the trail—and while in Europe in general—I received many emails from agents, publishers, and literary journals and magazines. This is because I had sent material to these sources before I left the States, in the form of novels and short stories that I, once again, felt were “ready.” I’d written a nonfiction piece about Bernie Sanders (in support of the Vermont senator) and had received a very kind, very personal rejection regarding the piece from the editor at Across the Margin (www.acrossthemargin.com), while my girlfriend and I were still in New York City. (A very professional online journal that looks like The New Yorker.) I bantered back and forth with the editor. He explained how they liked the writing in the political piece but why they were ultimately turning it down. I read a few of the stories on the Across the Margin website, got a feel for their style and content, and then found two fiction stories of mine I liked which were new and homeless still and were in my “sent” email folder. I asked if he’d be willing to take a look, he said yes, and I emailed them.

The knowledge that, as we traveled, from NYC to Berlin, from Berlin to Austria, from Austria to Naples, splitting ways (me and my girlfriend) in Italy, then going solo along the French Riviera, then to Valencia and finally to Pamplona and 29 days west on El Camino, there was at least one editor who I’d connected with and who was reading my stories, was calming. Because the majority of the emails I received (you stay at “albergues,” like pilgrim hostels along the trail that have WIFI; pronounced “wee-fee” in Spain) were cold, brutal, form rejections. One was from a book publisher turning my novella down and giving helpful yet harsh (ok, not harsh externally but it felt harsh to my sensitive writer’s mind) bullet points for why he was rejecting the work. But most simply said, “Thank you so much for sending us your work. We appreciate the opportunity. Unfortunately, this is not the right material for us. We wish you the best in your writing journey and career.”

That defining and principal word—“unfortunately”—can still make my head spin if I’m in the wrong frame of mind when I read a literary rejection. The form rejections are the worst—it shows they probably gave it five seconds before stamping it with a fast “no.” And likely it’s not even the editor themselves but their 18, 19-year-old college assistant who’s volunteering for the company. I would know. I used to intern with a literary agent. I know how they work.

But I—and all writers—have to remember that every author—from Hemingway and King to Jennifer Egan and John Green—have gone through and experienced rejection. I’ve heard stories of some of the big authors, like John Grisham, being told they “couldn’t write” and should “give up and find a real job.” Rejections were a lot more harsh back then, even 20 years ago.

But the truth is, you can’t get mad at publishers, agents or literary magazines/journals: They’re just sifting through the chaos. The reality today is that everybody thinks they’re “a writer.” With the popularity of the craft soaring in the last few decades, the evolution and growth of the trendy MFA across campuses all over America, and the advent of the dreaded and yet for some absolutely wonderful Self Publishing Industry, there are so many people trying to connect their work to potential readers that publishers, agents and lit mags are, by a long shot, overwhelmed. Big time. The white noise is staggering. I remember working at the agency: We had to reject a certain number of submissions per day. You have to! And so you ultimately end up finding ways to reject for stupid and unfair reasons. It’s like capitalism. It’s like MFA candidates applying; 20,000 applying for 200 open seats. Many will be rejected because they misspelled a word on page four, even if their prose is gem-tight and solid. It’s wrong but it’s life. Half the battle in this industry is luck and connections. Sad but true.

As the trip moved forward, and I received rejection after rejection for book and story, I felt that familiar slump, that emotional jet lag you get after too many people have said, “No, your writing is not good enough; it’s not important. You are irrelevant.” Of course that’s my own too-sensitive interpretation, mind you, but that’s nonetheless how I feel. Usually when I discover too many of these turn-downs I will call a friend, take a walk, go see a movie at the local theatre; anything to momentarily get my mind off the rejection (and what I perceive it to mean), and remember that I have many published works of fiction and nonfiction, that I am a good and worthy writer, and that, if I do this for the rest of my life, I will get to the level that I hope to get to. It’s common sense. If you have the talent, the patience, the ambition, the energy, the drive, and you know how to work the system, make connections, do your due diligence, eventually, you will darn well get “there.” You just have to keep rolling forward.

In the end, while I was roughly halfway across Northern Spain on the trail, I found out Across the Margin is going to publish the two stories I had submitted. It was wonderful news, especially since I’d been swimming in a veritable sea of Writing Rejection. It lifted my spirits and made me once more realize that things aren’t as horrible as they seem. For every 50 rejections I’ll maybe get one acceptance. And it’s always worth it. The stories will appear online at Across the Margin (www.acrossthemargin.com) very soon. One is called either “The End” or “Desperate Land.” Please search for that one within the next week or two. The second is called, “Emotional Surfing.” I’ll keep you updated on that release. They are both so-called “slice of life” tales about being a teen and in my early twenties and wreaking good ole havoc. (With a deep message, of course.)

So the moral of the story? Keep writing, keep submitting, keep doing what you do. Because they can’t reject you 100 percent of the time. Keep reading good books, keep learning the craft. Go to writing conferences, take writing classes, join critique groups, hire a freelance editor (like me) and continue to polish your prose.

You’ll get there. Until then, savor those rejections. They are teachers. And they won’t last forever.

Michael Mohr

Check Across the Margin for my latest stories. I am in the process of editing with the online journal but one should be up next week (“The End” or “Desperate Land”) and the other “Emotional Surfing” should be up sometime soon. (Check back for more info.) Also, you can purchase my story, Tightrope, at Alfie Dog Press, an online mag, for 66 cents. I am a former literary agent’s assistant, published writer and freelance book editor. Check the “Clients” section of this website for some examples of my work and testimonials. Email me for a free sample edit and a price quote.

Across the Margin: www.acrossthemargin.com


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