Why not begin with dialogue?

I’d read on more than one site that beginning a story with dialogue might turn off agents and was therefore not a good idea. No particular reason was given for why this was a turnoff, so I accepted it and just made a mental note to start in some other way.

Then I read a story beginning with a seven-line conversation, which didn't intrigue me. The writer had asked for critiques, though, which meant I had to think about why the conversation didn’t work – and for comparison purposes, I found a story starting with dialogue which did work.

So, why are writers warned off beginning with dialogue?

1. Talking head syndrome

Close your eyes and turn on the television, making sure you get a show rather than a news broadcast or documentary. Can you follow the plot simply through dialogue?

I imagine that reading a conversation between two unknown people is often as fun as not-watching TV, trying to tell what’s going on without visual clues. Very often such conversations look like this:

“We can’t tell anyone.”
“But that was a kid--”
“I don’t care. You want us to end up in there too?”

Is this a conversation between a couple, siblings, friends, strangers on a train? It’s words in a vaccum, talk in white space. The writer could fill in more details through the dialogue, but then we run into another problem…

2. As you know, Bob

“We can’t tell anyone what we saw Grandma Peters doing.”
“But that was a kid she lured with one of her homemade blueberry pies.”
“I don’t care. You want us to end up in there too? It’s not all blueberry, you know.”

The characters are telling each other what they already know. And the conflict doesn’t work too well either…

3. Dramatic personae

Since the dialogue alone has to hold the reader’s attention, some writers try to make it as gripping as possible. However, this can backfire if the dialogue is crammed with conflict and emotion, since the reader hasn’t had a chance to connect with the characters and experience whatever they experience.

It feels intrusive to begin a story with characters screaming at each other or confessing their love to each other. If there’s not even a minimal connection to the characters before they start talking about their divorce or the sniper across the street, the readers will be watching the scene from a detached distance. The conflict will be told to them rather than shown.

On the other hand, there are exceptions to every rule. And the one which came to mind right away was Ray Bradbury’s “The Veldt”.

”George, I wish you’d look at the nursery.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, then.”
“I just want you to look at it, or call a psychologist in to look at it.”

The first sentence establishes who’s speaking to who. “I wish you’d look at this” is something most likely said within the context of a marriage, rather than a romance or a friendship. And since it starts with a name, we know the husband is George, meaning that this is probably a conversation between humans in the present or near future (since Bradbury writes science fiction, readers can’t take that for granted).

Also, there’s a problem with the nursery. “George, I wish you’d look at the kitchen” would not have had the same impact, the same uneasy little sense of children-in-jeopardy. Though as the story goes on to show, nothing could be further from the truth.

So the first sentence also sets up the conflict, but does that in a subtle way, so that the reader can learn about the problem along with the characters. Starting with, “Oh my God, George! The children are in danger!” would not have worked so well. By the time the dialogue gets to the request for a psychologist – meaning that whatever’s wrong with the nursery, it’s not easily fixed – I’m hooked.

Finally, this is a stripped-down, minimalist start to the story. That parallels the nursery, which is featureless and blank-walled when someone first enters it.

Picking up on the emotions and wishes of the person, though, the nursery walls quickly produce different three-dimensional scenes, complete with temperature and smells and sound, to make its occupants feel as though they’re in another place and time – hence the title, “The Veldt”. Likewise, the intriguing conversation at the start quickly unfolds into Bradbury’s beautifully descriptive prose, which uses the senses of smell and touch better than any writer I’ve ever read.

I’m still going to begin my stories with something besides dialogue, but it’s good to see how that can work when done well.

Names in fantasy

A few thoughts on names in fantasy stories, in no particular order…

1. The same first and/or last letters to denote names from the same culture

Can work if used carefully and sparingly – and if it seems realistic that everyone in a particular race or society uses the same format in naming their children. It works in the real world when different suffixes denote gender (e.g. Roman names, Japanese names), which is a good reason to stick to a formula.

One problem, though, is that readers sometimes find it difficult to tell characters apart if their names begin with the same letter. And if the names are short on top of that, or end with the same letter as well, this can give them a sameness that doesn’t help. The Vulcans of Star Trek are perhaps the best example of this with names such as Surak, Sybok, Sarek, etc.

2. Cliched names

Some names are cliched from the get-go. When I first started writing fantasy, I had a character called Fox. And yes, he had red hair, however did you guess? I eventually realized that he was about the hundredth character to labor under that particular moniker, and if I revisit that story, he’ll get a name change.

“Raven” and “Hawk” are similar names which are overused in both fantasy and romance. It doesn’t help that people with those names tend to be bold or dashing or darkly lovely; you never get a baker called Hawk or a pregnant seamstress called Raven.

3. Actual names

This one is tricky, since there are actual names of all kinds, but it’s something to keep in mind. I recently read a Watt-Evans novel which had a minor character called Gita, and each time she was mentioned, I pictured an Indian woman in Ethshar. This impression could probably have been corrected if Gita had been fleshed out more. The Gita of the story would have created her own distinct impression in my mind then.

Things I’d like to see, or plan to do:

Both (or more) people in a marriage change their given names to show that they’re married.

Names based on a common theme – for instance, all the villagers or islanders take the names of flowers, gemstones, etc.

Names assigned to people by another land or culture. One thing I liked about Alien Nation was that that the Tenctonese refugees were assigned new names by the US government, and although this was used as humor (Sandy Beach, Gayle Warning, etc), it’s actually a very realistic touch.

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On a personal note, I've asked to review The Great Eight by Scott Hamilton, an Olympic gold medalist. The medal was in figure skating, the one sport I follow, so I'm looking forward to reading more about it.

Five types of half-human creatures

Specifically, creatures that have half a human body fused to half an animal’s body.

1. Centaurs

The most common of such types - see Piers Anthony’s Centaur Aisle for an example - though centaurs also played important roles in the Harry Potter books and the Chronicles of Narnia.

I’ve liked centaurs ever since I watched Disney’s Fantasia and saw the centaurs of various colors as well as the zebra fusions. More along those lines would be great. Humans joined to the bodies of stags, maybe?

2. Felinaurs

The felinaurs of Fighting Fantasy have a human’s torso fused to a lion’s lower body, but I found a picture of a cheetah cross as well. These haven’t seen much use in any of the fantasy I’ve read so far, but they’re intriguing, especially if they have a unique mentality or society to go with their appearances.

3. Xoroa

The Xoroa, also of Fighting Fantasy, have humanoid torsos fused to the lower bodies of giant ants. One reason I like them is that their physical alterations don’t stop at the waist; they have antennae instead of ears and cannot speak. Instead, they communicate with a clicking sound. They also live in a giant hive built around the only female, the Xoroa queen.

Insect and arachnid fusions turn up in other fantasies as well – the driders of Forgotten Realms , for instance, and Fighting Fantasy had human/scorpion crosses as well. Since there are so many types of invertebrate, this has nearly limitless potential. I’d love to see humans crossed with butterflies, scarab beetles, leeches or dragonflies.

4. Menfish

I’m borrowing the Mieville term here, because “mermaids” has been too Disneyfied to inspire any kind of serious, gritty fantasy for me. I think DragonLance had “sea elves”, but those were pretty, good creatures who turned up when they were needed and swam off when they weren’t.

But there’s so much more potential to this type of creature. Mermaids originally dragged shipwrecked sailors to drown. What if the mermaids were fused with piranhas, and the last thing such sailors saw was teeth, and lots of them? Stonefish, sharks, manta rays, barracudas, squid… there are a lot of creatures in the sea that either look deadly, or are deadly, or both. Don’t stop with half a fish when you can have half an anglerfish.

And also, how do mermaids reproduce? I’ve always wondered.

5. Avians

I couldn’t think of a better name for this type of creature, because I didn’t recall it being done in any fantasies other than the garuda of Mieville’s novels. Poul Anderson has a novel called War of the Wing Men, but this seems to be out of print, and other novels with bird fusions seem to settle for sticking wings on a human’s back, rather than creating an entirely new type of creature.

Which is a pity, because birds vary from ostriches to hummingbirds, from ospreys with eyes that adjust for light refraction in water to gulls that live in huge squabbling smelly colonies. And why stop at birds? I’d like to see a human/bat fusion. Or a human/pterodactyl.

Or, for that matter, any human/dinosaur cross. A human with a velociraptor’s lower legs and tail would be as cool as it was deadly.

What's Age Got to Do with It?

I read that Robin McGraw, at 55, wrote this book because her mother died prematurely after too many years of putting the needs of others before her own health. Since my mother died at 55, I decided to read this book.

What’s Age Got To Do With It? is a description of how Ms. McGraw (who’s married to Dr. Phil) keeps herself healthy and attractive at her age. She has an equally healthy mindset, and makes it clear that women of any age need to make time for themselves and their health even when taking care of a family.

This isn’t exactly groundbreaking information, but since many women do put their needs second to those of their family’s, reading this might make a difference for them. The book is organized into sections dealing with exercise, nutrition, hormones, makeup and so on, with anecdotes on each topic.

Ms. McGraw quotes several experts at length, and also describes the science behind processes like menopause. This is a nice contrast to the anecdotes, which at some points get a little too happy-families. Still, the stories which specifically focus on health are relevant, and I enjoyed the ones about makeovers gone wrong.

Unfortunately, since this is not a long book, it doesn’t go into some topics (such as spirituality) in depth. What readers often get instead is common knowledge, and the product placement reached the point where I started watching for the next brand-name cosmetic.

I’d recommend this book to women who want an overall look at health and beauty, accesorized with several pages advising them on exactly what to eat (taken from Dr Phil’s The Ultimate Weight Solution Food Guide). Ironically, my mother would have loved this – the mixture of health tips and celebrity-lifestyle would have worked for her. To me, though, it was a case of a book trying to be all things to all women, which rarely succeeds.

PublishAmerica’s latest offer

Emails went out to PA’s “thirty thousand happy authors” yesterday.

Dear Author,

Frame this: February is royalty month. Your next royalty statement is due in less than six weeks.

Receiving their royalty check is a high moment in every author's life, no matter the dollar amount. A moment worth framing.

Since PA sends out biannual royalty checks, and since their contracts hold authors for a minimum of 7 years, this means authors will have 14 moments worth framing during their time with PA.

We are offering to frame your next royalty check for you, in a distinguished, transparent 8x10 hard coated frame that "floats" the check between sheets of glass and plexiglass.

Because nothing says “distinguished” like plexiglass.

Note: you will still receive a negotiable version of your check that you can deposit, ensuring that the framed copy is a keepsake forever.

Thanks to the glass and plexiglass, you too can enjoy the PA version of the Precious Moments figurine through eternity. And beyond.

Reserve your framed check today. Price: $19.95, plus s&h.

For most authors, the frame would be worth more than the check (though as PA was quick to point out, it’s not the check you’re framing, it’s the magical moment). The same email stated, “Checks will be mailed February 28; statements regarding titles that sold zero copies will be forwarded by email.” I don’t suppose anyone will want to frame such a statement, though.

Threads about this sprang up on at least three discussion boards, and not even PA’s defenders seemed happy about it. The good news is that whether this offer is prompted by greed or desperation or both, it’s so blatant that it may alert at least a few new authors to what PA wants out of them. PA doesn’t charge for publication - which lures people in - but it charges for

1. Books (a 182-page paperback is priced at $24.95)

2. Shipping and handling ($4.99 for the first book, $2.99 for each additional book)

3. Advertising (PA’s auction, which has since been repeated)

4. Lack of advertising (after some authors found inappropriate advertising in their books, others wanted their books free of advertising. PA offered to make it so for $300)

5. A frame for each royalty check ($19.95 + s&h)

6. The return of rights (starting at $300)

I wonder what PA will try to sell to authors next. A frame for the dollar advance? Cover art? A special certificate saying “Congratulations, you are now a Published Author”? A frame for that? With PA, you never can tell.

The Clone Wars theory

I first read about the Clone Wars theory here. It’s based on a throwaway line from Star Wars where Obi-Wan says to Luke, “He fought with your father in the Clone Wars.”

There are no other references to the Clone Wars in the movie, but it’s the kind of tiny, telling detail that fleshes out the Star Wars universe, and for years fans speculated on what had happened in the Clone Wars. Finally another movie came along to tell that story.

So the theory is that such details shouldn’t necessarily be cut when editing, even if they’re not actively contributing to the story. As long as they’re making the world or the characters seem that much more three-dimensional or lived-in, they’re justifying their existence.

Another example of this occurs in my perennial favorite Gone with the Wind. Well over halfway through the book, Rhett divulges to Scarlett that he has a ward, a little boy back in Charleston. No other details given (is the boy related? Maybe even a son?) and what’s even more curious, remembering the child is an unpleasant experience for Rhett. Again, no reason given, which is all the more strange given that Rhett gets along very well with Scarlett’s son.

That and other details of Rhett’s mysterious past make up for the fact that so little of GWTW is told from his point of view. More so, they flesh him out as a character while still keeping him intriguing. Margaret Mitchell knew just how important it was to keep the readers longing for more.

Two caveats I’d use when applying this to my work, though. In Before the Storm, I took the Clone Wars theory to heart and had my characters mention the Infestation, which – from their mentions of it – sounded like a great war that had once devastated part of their land.

Unfortunately, I had them mention it on seven separate occasions, as opposed to the one-time Clone Wars reference, and as a result an agent asked what the Infestation was. Which left me in a corner, since I really didn’t know – and if I’d stuck to a single use of the term, I wouldn’t have needed to know.

The other concern is that whatever the throwaway detail is, it has to be truly throwaway. It’s one thing if a writer plays coy on very minor matters like the Doom of Valyria (I have no idea what that is, but it’s fun to imagine), but it’s another to keep important and necessary facts from the readers, especially if this interferes with their understanding the plot.

Other than that, though, this is a wonderful way to indulge both yourself and the readers. Not explaining everything makes readers feel that this is a three-dimensional world with hidden secrets, that the characters have lives deeper than the printed page. There’s more to them than meets the eye, and that makes them realistic.

Look who's Tolkien

Bad puns aside, I recently came across a story a writer had put up for critiques. The story began with a long description of how a god created the world and the various races in it.

When other critiquers explained that this was likely to deter readers, the writer was surprised. Wasn't that how Tolkien's book started out? Didn't the film version of The Lord of the Rings begin with a prologue?

The thing is, though, we aren't Tolkien.

The Lord of the Rings was written before 1950, and acceptable writing styles were different then. Especially in speculative fiction, readers were more willing to plow through paragraphs of description and backstory at the start. Everything changes, though, and these days readers want to be involved with the characters right away.

Also, Tolkien was more than a storyteller - he was a poet as well, and his prose has a beautiful, lyrical feel to it. Great writing covers a multitude of sins, but most new writers aren't likely to match this level of voice.

But the most interesting thing, for me, is that Tolkien's most famous books don't begin with the history of the world and how the gods created it. The Hobbit starts with a simple and personal introduction to Bilbo (a character, not a country), and The Fellowship of the Ring starts with Bilbo's party. Frodo - and the reader - has to wait until later to learn about the Ring and about the splendid and tragic history of Middle-Earth.

The Silmarillion is the definitive example of a book with a Genesis beginning, but even that isn't an encyclopedic entry. Instead of being dry and factual, it's woven through with emotion - Melkor's jealousy, Aule's love for his creations - and lyrical descriptions of the Valar.

And the book was published after the other two, when readers wanted more of Middle-Earth. It wasn't an introduction to the epic or a prologue which explained all the worldbuilding.

When I first began writing fantasy, I used prologues to describe both the world and the (usually portentous) birth of the protagonist. After a while, I realized these were both dull and cliched, and now I just start in media res. Works a lot better.

Lakeworld and ideas

Yesterday I came up with Lakeworld.

I wanted to create a world that was very different from my usual stomping grounds. Something easy to summarize, but as unusual and distinctive as Mieville’s Armada or Le Guin’s Tombs of Atuan. The result was Lakeworld.

Lakeworld is made up of fourteen lakes of varying sizes, close together in a roughly circular shape. Narrow stone landbridges divide them. Different lakes have different features – the largest, for instance, is home to a herd of plesiosaurs, while another serves as a primary fishing ground/waterfarm for the population. Most of the people of Lakeworld live on its surface, on ships or on the back of a giant beast that nearly fills one of the lakes, though some live beneath the water.

So, why am I mentioning this? Well, aside from the fun of sharing it, I wanted to say something about ideas.

A lot of new writers are worried that someone might steal their ideas. They hesitate to put up parts of their work for critique even in private forums, or are reluctant to mention the details of a story in a query letter. On one occasion, I even read a thread started by a writer who wanted to sell ideas.

Is there a process to go through in which an idea can be pitched for someone else to write?

The reality, though, is that ideas are not just common, they’re distinctive to whoever works on them. Here’s an example:

A woman marries a man inferior to her in both social status and money, because she can't have the man whom she really loves. They have a daughter who, like her mother, falls in love with a man whom she can't have and marries someone else instead. She has a child by the man she loves, but the child dies. She loses the man in the end.

Margaret Mitchell made this into Gone with the Wind. Colleen McCullough made this into The Thorn Birds. Two very different novels, both very successful.

In other words, if you give ten writers the same idea, you’ll get ten or more different stories. The idea never stands alone. The writer will add genre, characterization, plot, theme and style, until finally it will be as difficult to discern the original idea as it is to tell which seed grew into which tree.

And each writer usually generates far more ideas than they can use, ideas that are better suited to their favorite genres and ways of writing than someone else’s ideas will be. So there’s no reason to worry that anyone’s going to steal an idea.

Lakeworld is a good example of this. Right now, it’s a thinly-sketched milieu, and I don’t know what characters are going to use it to enact which plot. The idea of the world itself is only the starting point. I could go anywhere from here – and so could anyone else who came up with this first, because there aren’t that many original ideas in the world. Lakeworld is original enough for me, though, and I look forward to telling a story about it.

Five dead micropresses

May they rest in peace.

All of these were startup POD publishers which didn’t charge their authors for publication and which seemed like good ideas at the time to many people. All of them are now defunct, taking the dreams (and sometimes money) of writers with them.

1. Rain Publishing, 2005-2008

Writers were told that “Rain Publishing has begun a new revolution of conventional publishing”. A claim from a startup that it will change the industry is usually a red flag, but Rain’s insistence on taking the writers’ copyright was a more serious warning sign.

Rain went out of business in April 2008 due to “personal health reasons” on the founder’s part. One of their authors said that Rain’s books were priced even higher than PublishAmerica’s and Rain did not send out review copies even when major reviewers requested them (after being contacted by the author). Read more here.

2. Capri Publishing, 2005-2006

Capri was started by a former PA author, and named after the founder’s child*. The founder had a full-time job and a family, so the publishing was a part-time deal at best, although she claimed that Capri would accept only “a limited amount of manuscripts for 2007”. This limited amount included 50 novels.

In late 2006, newly released books stopped appearing on Amazon. A few authors received replies to their emails or phone calls about this.

I received an email stating that the reason I didn't get my books is because she was depressed.

Capri Publishing was taken over by new management which seemed to be as much out of touch with publishing as the old management, but which charged fees into the bargain. Finally it went down for good.

3. Luna Brilliante, 2006-2007

Although Luna Brilliante had no distribution (normal for POD presses), it started out with good intentions, claiming that it would publish only 4 – 5 books per year. Book prices were also more competitive than those of a lot of POD presses. Then one of the partners pulled out, leaving the company short of money.

But if funds don’t come from the publisher then there’s always another reliable source.

Luna Brillante Publishing, a Florida based business, announced the company is now accepting submissions from prospective authors for their new venture in Collaborative Publishing... The packages – Moondrop, Moonebeam, and Moonglade range from $399 to $899.

The publisher admitted that Luna Brilliante was run by people without much experience (or hope of doing anything more than breaking even), but that they were learning. In early 2007, Luna Brilliante went out of business. The fallout was severe for the publisher as well.

After we shut down LBP, our creditors began coming after us, we've burned through our savings and we're struggling to prevent leins against our home. One of the authors didn't take our demise too well and is threatening to sue.

4. TICO Publishing, 2004–2007

TICO Publishing started by offering paid reviews, though the publisher addressed concerns and seemed willing to make changes to their policies.

Unfortunately TICO had an very author-unfriendly contract that grabbed rights and did not require the publisher to commit to a publication date**. The publisher also claimed that,

All manuscripts get commented on by (at least) the first reader. The comments include a synopsis of the story and comments on what the reader did and/or didn't like about the story.

I’m not sure why the writer would need this synopsis. Including comments also doesn’t seem like the most productive use of reader time.

TICO’s website no longer exists and its blog has not been updated since May 2007.

5. Light Sword Publishing, 2006-2008

The first thing we ask each of our author's to remember is that YOU must sell your book. --> Link

Light Sword Publishing was founded by Linda Daly, a former PA author with no experience in publishing. Much like PA, Light Sword paid a dollar advance, described itself as a “traditional, royalty paying publisher”, and expected authors to do the bulk of marketing and distribution.

And much like PA, there were issues about nonpayment of royalties and unprofessional behavior. In 2008, an author successfully sued for breach of contract. Light Sword Publishing then changed its name to LSP Digital.

In addition, LSP will direct our authors to further promote their work by:

*** Requesting that they mail out a minimum of 100 announcement letters to family, friends and colleagues introducing their release.

In late 2008, Light Sword Publishing filed for bankruptcy, although LSP Digital did not. I’ll close with this quote from LSP’s “In the News” page, about an author’s self-promotion tactic.

…if the reader can get 10 others to buy a copy, they will have their purchase reimbursed. Getting 20 new customers earns the referrer a free copy of the book and 50 gets them a free 18 inch by 18 inch throw pillow.

I should hope the pillow was free. I’d hate to take part in what looks like a tacky pyramid scheme, only to find I had to pay for my pillow.

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*If I were starting a publishing company, I’d find a rich person to invest in it and name it after their child.

**Which goes to show that “the publisher did everything specified in the contract” is not much of a defense of the publisher.

Monsters of the mind

A reliable staple of horror is having one’s mind controlled by some other entity. This can be another person, a creature of some kind or an entire race, and it can be either within or outside the person being controlled. I was wondering whether this could work in a fantasy context as well.

Science fiction features a vast array of mind-controllers, from Robert Heinlein’s Puppetmasters to Stephenie Meyer’s The Host. The Borg from Star Trek are another good example, though their extensive reconfiguration of the body tends to overshadow the mind-control aspect.

One thing I love about science fiction is that such controllers come in all shapes and types. I think Jack L. Chalker’s Well World series features a sentient virus which dominates anyone it infects, and Star Trek has had some sluglike creatures which do the same thing.

In contrast, the only such creatures from fantasy that came to mind right away were the illithids of Dungeons and Dragons. I’ve come across one or two other mentions of parasites which take over the host’s mind, but these weren’t fleshed out or given any unique features.

While I haven’t read The Host, the premise of it is intriguing because the alien invaders (called “souls”), genuinely believe that they are doing good by controlling the human capacity for violence. Too often, stories don’t give anyone who practices mind control this much benefit of the doubt. Instead, writers often have such people or creatures resorting to brainwashing to further their own predatory and rapacious goals.

But what if they had no choice in the matter? The souls of The Host need human bodies to survive, and likewise other species may not choose to mentally dominate anyone near them. It may simply be a feature of their biology, one which they can’t control any more than we can change our height or warm-bloodedness. Perhaps some such inadvertent puppetmasters would feel responsible for anyone falling under their sway and would treat them well, though others would not.

Or perhaps the manipulation is more subtle. Controllers who didn’t want to be either treated with hostility or exposed for what they were might be very careful. Rather than openly controlling other people, they might simply introduce intuitions or suggestions into other people’s minds. As a result, they might do genuine good, or be considered useful by people in a position of power.

And to take it one step further, what if the host chose to be controlled? I can’t see myself giving up part of me to an alien or fantasy race of any kind. But I can see myself doing the same thing if someone I loved very much was dying, and the only way to preserve some small part of them was to allow their mind into my body. If the only alternative was to lose that person entirely, undergoing a voluntary version of multiple personality disorder would not be so bad in comparison.

Or at least it might not seem that way at the start…

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On another note, I took the "What font are you?" test. Turns out I am Impact, "the preferred font of LOLCats everywhere. A little dark. A little narrow. That's because you spend too much time in front of your computer." That, and coming from South Asia.