Monday, December 23, 2024
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays from IWSG
Monday, December 16, 2024
Why Substack?
I jumped into Substack without much information about how it worked. I’d become dissatisfied with my WordPress website because it was always breaking down, and the security became a nightmare as well as expensive. Substack seemed like a great alternative.
Here’s what I like so far:
- It has a blog feature called Notes.
- It’s an easy-to-use newsletter platform.
- It doesn’t require up-front money for hosting or security like WP.
- It allows me to connect directly with people who like what I write and to find others whose work I enjoy.
One of the biggest draws for writers is the option to receive payment for their work. It's a definite mark of professionalism. Some writers only allow liking and commenting by paying subscribers while others offer deeper dives into content for people who pledge $$ to their site. While I’m not asking for payment, I do tell readers they can support my work by buying my books.
It was interesting to read what Alexa Schlosser, the managing editor of IBPA wrote about this platform, “ I strongly believe Substack will become one of the main arenas for discovering new books in a few years time.” She also included the fact that John Pistelli, a novelist who wrote Major Arcana, managed to secure a publishing deal after serializing his novel on Substack.
As I make my way through this new (to me) platform, I'm finding publishers like Galiot Press that accept submissions for fiction and non-fiction. There are renowned writers of both fiction and non-fiction, so I pick up some great tips and read some excellent writing.
To be successful on Substack you have to do what you do on all other social media.
- Be consistent. If you say you’re going to publish weekly, do so, or explain why you’re not able to.
- Visit other Substack writers to like, comment, restack, or share. If you take the time to comment, that’s seen as more involvement, and you’re more likely to have that writer subscribe to your site.
- Subscribe to other Substacks. You can do that for free or pledge whatever amount you feel is appropriate or affordable.
So far, I’m happy being there, but there are downsides. A big one is that you’re dependent on Substack’s structure, and you don’t have as much control as you do with a website.
Also, Substack doesn’t have the same SEO capacity as say WordPress. That means search engines might miss you and many readers won’t find your posts.
After I settle in a bit, I may consider creating a website (not WordPress!) where my Substack posts can show up and where search engines are more likely to find me.
Monday, December 9, 2024
4 Tactics to Elevate the Suspense in Any Story
Hi, IWSG readers! Today Savannah Cordova from Reedsy has one dynamite post that I know you're going to appreciate. Take it away, Savannah.
Suspense is one of those elements that, depending on your genre of choice, you might think you can disregard as a writer. But in reality, every good narrative needs some degree of suspense — whether that’s rooted in a classic “whodunnit” of a murder mystery, or the more lighthearted question of whether two romantic leads will get together in the end.
To cultivate the right atmosphere, here are four tried-and-true tactics to elevate suspense in any story… that’s right, not just in mysteries and thrillers! And to prove it, I’ll even include examples from various genres (though beware of mild spoilers ahead).
1. Present a bold yet ambiguous statement
One way to instantly elevate the suspense in your story — and which may be useful for grabbing readers’ attention from the start — is to make some kind of bold statement that implies something interesting, but doesn’t elaborate further in the moment.
The first time I encountered this tactic was in the Liane Moriarty novel Truly Madly Guilty. While the story didn’t end up being my absolute favorite, this particular line stopped me in my tracks. For context, in the book’s first chapter, the narrator is watching her friend give a speech using a set of index cards:
There was something heartbreaking about those cards, as if Clementine had remembered that little tip from their oratory lessons at school. She must have cut them up with scissors. Not her grandmother’s pearl-handled ones. They’d gone missing.
Three simple words change this passage from a fairly mundane description to one with a tug of suspense. How did Clementine’s scissors go missing, and how does the narrator even know they’re gone? What have they been used for, and how might it relate to Clementine’s speech (which we already know, even from this first chapter, is about something bad)?
Of course, Moriarty writes domestic thrillers, and this particular style might not work for other types of fiction. So to give another, non-thriller example, here’s a similar line from the opening of Leigh Bardugo’s new historical fantasy novel, The Familiar:
If the bread hadn’t burned, this would be a very different story.
Once more, simple yet effective. Over the next few lines, Bardugo makes some more observations about this sort of “butterfly effect”, but includes few contextual details — though crucially, she does include the phrase “all of the tragedy to follow.” So again, readers know that something not-so-good is in store… but what, and for whom, remains a mystery.
You’ll be amazed how well this tactic can work across genres. Whether it’s delivered as part of your general narration, via the thoughts of an unreliable narrator, or in the form of a cryptic character’s speech, putting forth such a statement and then refusing to say any more about it is a surefire way to increase suspense.
2. Implement some kind of “countdown”
The “bold statement” tactic works well on a line-by-line level, but let’s now look at a bigger-picture method of elevating suspense: introducing a “countdown” of some sort. This technique will naturally create narrative urgency, and can even help you structure your story if you’re not sure how to go about it!
If you’re not sure what I mean by “countdown”, just think of any fictional plot based on a
predetermined number of events. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, for example, is structured around the three tasks of the Triwizard Tournament, each one introducing more drama than the last. Another good example is Ready Player One, which revolves around the discovery of three virtual “keys” that will award the finder with fame and fortune. (Indeed, if you’ve heard of the literary rule of three, it will be no surprise that many of these countdowns come in trios!)
To give one more potent example — this one from an actual suspense novel (and one I was definitely too young to be reading at the time) — let’s consider Life Expectancy by Dean Koontz. For those who haven’t read it, this is a truly unhinged novel about a man who is stalked and tormented by a family of clowns, all in the wake of his dying grandfather having predicted “five terrible days” in his grandson’s life.
I won’t go into detail about these events, but needless to say, this was a very memorable book. While the subject matter was surely part of that, I also vividly recall just how suspenseful the story was; when I first read the book around age twelve, I was sweating bullets to see how the protagonist would grapple with each predicted “terrible day”.
Who’s to say whether Life Expectancy would hold up in retrospect, but the looming terror of that five-day countdown certainly did its job on me at the time. So remember, if you’re looking to inject some suspense into your own story, you can’t go wrong with a countdown of sorts!
3. Make one of your characters “disappear”
Here’s another classic suspense-building tactic: having one of your characters vanish from the page — or appear to vanish. Nothing is more tantalizing than a disappearing act… particularly if you’ve gotten readers invested in the character, which will make them feel genuinely anxious about that character’s fate.
The quintessential example here is Gone Girl — it’s right there in the title! When Amy Dunne disappears from her suburban home, she leaves her husband, Nick, mystified (as per his own internal monologue) and seemingly guilty (according to the media circus that ensues). While Amy does vanish pretty early in the book, Gillian Flynn cleverly gets us invested in her character by having further chapters alternate between her POV and Nick’s.
These conflicting narratives make it impossible to know what’s true, what’s false, and what is perhaps intentionally hidden — ratcheting up the suspense until the midpoint of the book, when the shocking real truth about Amy is revealed. It’s an absolute masterclass in twisty drama (and in my opinion, has yet to be outdone by any domestic thriller since).
But while this is the “classic” approach, there are other, subtler ways to “disappear” a character as well — with one of my favorite methods being used in Daisy Jones and the Six. In this novel, we follow a group of former bandmates recounting their glory days in the seventies… but one band member, Pete Loving, is conspicuously absent. He appears in the anecdotes about the past, but not as one of the people giving “present-day” accounts. As readers begin to notice this, the question mounts: what ever happened to this guy?
As those who’ve read the book will know, Pete turns out fine; he’s just not interested in participating in the oral history, preferring to leave the past in the past. But his lack of narration nonetheless builds an almost-subconscious suspense for readers — and when he’s shown to be alive and well, you can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief.
4. Give equal weight to every possibility
Lastly, it might sound obvious, but the best way to build literary suspense — and this applies to every story, no matter what your genre! — is to simply leave as many paths open as possible in terms of what will happen.
Unlike the other tactics on this list, this one is much easier said than done. You’ll need to weave just enough uncertainty into your story to keep readers guessing, not revealing the truth until it’s exactly the right time. But if you can pull it off, you’ll end up with the ideal balance of suspense: an ending which feels satisfying, yet which most readers won’t necessarily guess, because there are just too many other possibilities.
One of my favorite novelists is Ann Patchett, and while you wouldn’t call her books “suspenseful” in the typical sense, she is a virtuoso of the “many possibilities” narrative. Her 2019 book The Dutch House exemplifies this beautifully — it’s the story of two siblings whose mother abandons them and whose father dies, leaving them at the mercy of their “wicked” stepmother, who ultimately tries to disinherit them.
But while each new plot point feels entirely organic, it’s impossible to predict what will happen next. Will the siblings reconcile with their stepmother, or will they go searching for their real mother? How will all this affect their future relationships; indeed, where can they go from here, as young adults who are not quite orphans, but with no real sense of what a family should be?
This review refers to The Dutch House as having an “irresistible narrative drive” — in other words, fostering just the right amount of suspense for readers, even if it’s not a heart-pounding thriller. And this is what I wish to impress upon any author who’s still skeptical of the need for suspense: sure, you don’t need a scintillating murder mystery with twelve possible suspects, but you do need that narrative drive.
On that note, I sincerely hope these tips have helped you out! Whatever you’re writing now — whether it’s a thriller or a slow-burn romance — you can use these tactics to build stories about which readers will say: “I couldn’t wait to find out what would happen next.” Best of luck!
Thanks so much Savannah! Great information.
Monday, December 2, 2024
Memoir on My Mind
Monday, November 25, 2024
I Want You To Be Yourself, and To Be Gentle with Yourself
Hi writers! I'm Liza Olmsted, a writer, editor, and publisher at Thinking Ink Press. I'm also neurodivergent* and I have invisible disabilities.
The publishing industry can be really hard on those of us with visible or invisible disabilities … or really just all of us. (This is true of all industries, really, but let’s focus for a minute.) We’re trained to believe due dates are Very Important. We’re trained to believe we should put in 100%, without ever asking “of what”? We’re trained to believe it’s an honor to be published, so we should make all the changes editors ask for, or do a lot of work for very little money.
I recently co-edited and published** a science fiction anthology featuring neurodivergent authors and neurodivergent main characters, The Neurodiversiverse: Alien Encounters, which gave me lots of opportunities to think about those expectations, both as I set them and as I operated within them.
My co-editor and I went into this project with a goal to be supportive of neurodivergence in all its flavors. As a publisher, Thinking Ink Press values inclusion and diversity*** (and good storytelling!), and we’re aware that neurodivergent people can be excluded from publishing when their communication or working styles are out of sync from traditional publishing’s values. For example, autistic folks are less likely to have their work published because they may take instructions too literally, or they may miss cues or norms that aren't made explicit, or they may experience Pathological Demand Avoidance and be unable to make edits within the requested timeframe. ADHD folks are less likely to get published because they may have time blindness that causes them to miss due dates or because they may experience Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria and be unable to hear an editor's suggestions in anything other than a severely critical tone. Folks who have depression may have a whole battle just to get words out, let alone be able to interact with an editor.
We wanted people with any of those challenges to still have their stories and poems included in this anthology.
As the project went along, I discovered I wasn’t applying those principles to myself, even while I was applying it to our authors. I would hold too strictly to due dates that my time blindness thought would be reasonable (they were not), and I’d end up exhausted and unable to make good decisions. Or I’d find myself caught in the belief that things needed to be perfect rather than done. Several times that I had a conversation with myself that went like:
Liza: “I just need to push through to get this done.”
Also Liza: “ok, but if one of your authors told you they were burning themself out to achieve your deadline, you would change the deadline.”
Liza: “👀 👀 no, but that's different.”
Also Liza: “it's not different. you can change the deadline.”
I made a practice of giving myself rest every time I heard myself think “I just need to get this done” or “I should be able to do more.” And I rested until I heard thoughts like “ooh, I know just how to [whatever]” or “ooh, I wonder if [something].” In other words, anytime I felt excited or curious about the project I could go back to work on it.
My native state is excitement and curiosity. When I’m healthy and able, I am excited and curious about something. When I’m not excited or curious, I’m probably unwell and need rest or help.† This project was one I was excited and passionate about, and I couldn’t wait for readers to be able to read the fantastic stories and poems. If I wasn’t excited to work on it, it wasn’t because I wasn’t excited about the project anymore.
I know, you might be wondering: What about when the deadline does matter, or your editor/publisher isn’t willing to work with you?
And I have two answers to that:
First, you can always ask for what you need or want (with the understanding that they can always say no). It gives them the chance to say yes, rather than choosing the “no” for them. For example, if someone asks you to write a piece “for a good cause,” you can write back thanking them for the opportunity and telling them what your rates are. They might say they’re really not able to pay, or you might discover they actually have some money they can give to people who need it. Or if your deadline is approaching and you need more time, you can ask for more time. It might turn out they’re behind, too!
Second, sometimes the best thing is to not have your piece published in that venue after all. If the editor isn’t able and willing to work with your communication style, or if the deadlines are too tight for you to meet without hurting yourself, or if you just can’t agree with the editor about what the piece should be … then don’t do it. And if you discover that they’re rude about a request you make, remember that you have what they want: fabulous content. It’s your work, and you get to choose who publishes it.††
Of course the consequence of me changing deadlines was that I had to apologize, more than once, to authors who received editorial notes, feedback, or even print editions of the book later than promised (sometimes months later—I’m so sorry). Fortunately for me, they’ve been incredibly understanding.
One of our authors was persistently late with their drafts and revisions (and even with signing the contract), but their story is fantastic and it’s an honor to have it in the book. Were we stressed out occasionally? Maybe a teensy bit. Did we publish the book anyway, and include their piece? We sure did! (Were we also running late? We absolutely were!)
Fundamentally, what’s special about your writing is you. Not the “you” that got squished into the wrong-shaped box when you were a kid. Not the “you” who can hit every deadline only by sacrificing your creativity or well-being.††† Not the “you” who is “appropriate” in how you communicate. I mean the you who sees the world differently from everyone else, who crafts a sentence the way only you would, who brings characters to life in a way no one else can.
You are the only one who can write what you wrote. As an editor, I ask: Please be gentle with your amazing self.
—
* You can tell I have ADHD in part because of how much I use footnotes and parentheticals. 😄
** A couple of definitions: Publishers are the people who make the book exist in the world. Editors are the people who hold the vision for the book and suggest changes to the interior. There's a ton of overlap between the two roles, and I held both for this project, so I use them somewhat interchangeably. Note that copyeditors are also editors, but they have a much more narrow scope and aren't who I'm talking about here. There are also freelance developmental editors you could hire to help polish your work, but again they're not who I'm talking about here.
*** If that’s important to you, too, Thinking Ink Press is often open to submissions.
† My autistic brain demands that I clarify that this is a gross oversimplification. Most of you don’t need or want me to enumerate the exceptions, but if you’d like to chat about the nuances of situations like this, feel free to drop me a line!
†† Side note about contracts: If you’ve already signed a contract, there may or may not be a lot you can do about your disagreement. Do your best to read through the contract ahead of time to make sure they can’t make edits without your approval, and that there are rights reversions, and generally that the contract isn’t predatory.
††† And if your superpower happens to be hitting deadlines while being brilliantly creative, that’s fantastic! We’re all different, and we all have wonderful things to share. That’s the point.
The Author
Liza Olmsted (they/she): Liza Olmsted (they/she) is the co-editor of The Neurodiversiverse: Alien Encounters and refuses to struggle with ADHD, autism, or anxiety, regardless of how hard they struggle with her. They are also the editor of the inclusive writing inspiration book Your Writing Matters. Liza is one of the founders of Thinking Ink Press, which publishes fiction and nonfiction books with a focus on amplifying disabled, LGBTQ+, and neurodivergent voices. Thinking Ink recently received fiscal sponsorship from the nonprofit Independent Arts & Media, which means it can now accept tax-deductible donations from US taxpayers who feel moved to support its mission.