Write It Now Part 18: Logline, the writer’s best friend

I figure a logline is one of the best friends a writer can have. A good one will help sell your manuscript to an agent or publisher.  What’s more, loglines are also brilliant writing tools.

A logline is a one-sentence description of a book. Its purpose is to tell the agent or publisher why the public want to read the book. To do that, the logline doesn’t recount the plot; it describes the character arc – in effect, the emotional effect of the book on the reader. It works for non-fiction, too, but it’s usually used for fiction. In novels or plays, the usual form is “[character name] has to [do something] in order to [achieve exciting goal] and so [develop as a character]”.

It has to grab the person reading it at once and convince them why they should represet or publish the material. The keys to writing a good logline are active language and being able to hone in on why people want to read the story.

“Halfling hero has to face dangers to drop a magic ring into a volcano.”

Uh…yay, but no cigar. OK, try this:

“Unwilling halfling has to find the courage to face the power of the Dark Lord in a quest to destroy a cursed ring that threatens the world.”

There’s character dynamic, purpose, drama, and the stakes of failure are clear.

Some books don’t render a good loglines, because they don’t meet the requirements of dramatic convention. Yet that convention, like it or not, is what sells. The only cure is to re-write the book.

Is there a way to avoid that re-work? Sure. This is where the logline comes in as a writing tool.

Got an idea for a book? A phrase – ‘In a hole in the ground lived a…’ for instance? Excellent. But don’t start writing the novel from that (yes, I know someone did…) These days the bar is slightly higher.

Sit down and write the logline. Make those the very first words you write on a book. Make it the real thing – grippy, dynamic, all the stuff you think you’ll need to sell the book. If it looks lame – well, that’s a good litmus test as to the book itself.

If you have a Good Idea half way through? No problem. Loglines can be revised. But it’s important to sit down and look at the whole structure of the book if you change direction part way. More on that next time.

Meanwhile, do you use loglines? Have you ever sold a story or book with one?

Copyright © Matthew Wright 2013 

Coming up: more writing tips, Neanderthal geek adventures with Amazon – and more.

Sixty second writing tips: getting entitled

One of the biggest challenges an author faces these days is the title. Those words are often the first thing a buyer knows about the book.

1197094932257185876johnny_automatic_books_svg_medThat’s why publishing contracts give the right to select title to the publisher – and their marketing departments. They’re up with the play on what’s selling, and usually way more experienced than the author at picking the words.

But self-publishers face the same issue. It’s an art as much as technique.

These days the wording is more crucial than ever. The title has to be snappy, up to the minute and filled with verve. It has to be informative – to sum up the book in one or two punchy words. My tips:

1. Be brief. One to three words are best.

2. But phrases can work, if they’re cool, obvious and grabby. A book I’m reading now – ‘How to think like a Neanderthal’ – is sheer genius.

3. Avoid transient fashion words. Nothing dates faster than today’s slang.

4. Get other opinions.

How do you develop titles for your books? I’d love to hear from you.

Copyright © Matthew Wright 2013

Sixty second writing tips: a plan a day keeps the panic away

Ever been overwhelmed by the enormity of your writing? By the sheer scale of the task? Its complexity – especially as you start getting out to book length?

sleeping-man-with-newspapers-mdIt’s something every writer slams into sooner or later. Especially if you’ve got a publishing deadline – one agreed with a publisher, or one you’ve created yourself to release a book.

There’s the writing, the revising, the proof-editing, the line-editing, the typesetting, the production process, the marketing plan the – aaaargh! You get the picture.

To me the answer’s in the planning – in identifying what has to be done, setting out the dependencies, identifying the critical time-constraints, then systematically working through them.

The twist I put on it – which I’m sure I’m not the only one to envisage – is that this works to any scale. Not just the big-ticket project of a book, but even figuring out how a writing session is going to proceed, before plunging into it.

It means I can figure out when and how I’m going to deal with correspondence, social networking, revisions, editing, the writing itself, and so on.

At that level, fifteen minutes sorting out what has to be done that day can save hours of floundering later.

Even ten minutes, actually. Time well spent. I find it’s handy. Do you?

Copyright © Matthew Wright 2013

Write it now: part 11, introducing the organising principle

In the last few weeks we’ve been exploring the ways writing is structured. Last week we looked at large-scale structure – the big-aim content defined by log-line or thesis.

1195430130203966891liftarn_Writing_My_Master_s_Words_svg_medThis week we’re moving on to how that is done – the detail of how these over-arching ideas are translated into written content, chapter by chapter or – if it is a short piece – paragraph by paragraph.

Like the over-arching structure, the broader content starts with a single sentence or phrase, which we might for convenience call the ‘organising principle’.

This principle tells you what to include when translating that over-arching idea into a longer work – what’s relevant to the thesis or logline, and what isn’t.  It also offers ways of organising the argument – or the character arc – or the theme and idea.

Take Bill Bryson’s recent book At Home, which is about domestic lifestyles and how they’ve changed through time. To do that, he takes the reader on a tour of his own house, room by room, exploring its history. The organising principle is the fact that he is doing it room-by-room, in sequence. He doesn’t do it floor by floor, or cover dozens of houses, house by house – he’s doing it room by room, in a single house.

This is very distinctive, and through it Bryson efficiently tells us a much broader story. That combination of content and organising principle is what gives the book its angle – and sets it apart from every other book on housing and lifestyles.

That’s true of fiction, too. Take Kenneth Grahame’s The Wind In The Willows, for instance. The theme is Grahame’s take on the nature of different classes in his Edwardian-era society – especially the working classes (Rat), the bourgeoise (Mole),  and the nobility (Mr Toad). The key logline is Toad’s character arc – ‘Mr Toad, through a series of adventures, is taught by his friends how to be a reformed character.’ However, Grahame’s organising principle is episodic; Toad’s character arc – and the subsidiary arc of Mole – unfolds through a succession of self-contained short stories (actually, I believe, starting life as letters to his son).

So – the ‘logline’ tells you what you are doing. The ‘organising principle’ tells you how to do it. It’s plannable too, and means novellists don’t end up barking up the wrong tree or following dead-end plot lines that fail to advance the story. And non-fiction writers get to achieve what are often elusive in that genre – relevance and angle.

Copyright © Matthew Wright 2013

Coming up: the real Moon hoax, translating simultaneous ideas into linear writing; sixty second writing tips – and more. Watch this space.

Write it now part 11: ‘how’ not ‘what’, the key secret to writing it big

Being told that what you write must have a ‘beginning,’ middle’ and ‘end’ must be the oldest and stalest tip in the book.

1195430130203966891liftarn_Writing_My_Master_s_Words_svg_medMade worse because it’s true. Every written piece needs structure, whether it’s a 300-word blog entry or a 600,000 word magnum opus, fiction or non-fiction. Even lists need an organising principle – giving structure.

But what does that really mean?

Over-arching structure varies depending on what you’re writing. Academic essays must have a ‘tell you three times’ structure – abstract, argument and conclusion. In fiction – let’s say the ‘hero journey’, the beginning is the normal world; the middle the second act, where the hero learns; and the end the third, climactic act. Think Star Wars or Wizard of Oz.

Blog posts or feature articles (same thing, writing-wise) use the inverted pyramid – broad-spectrum grab-line, expository, and punch-out, usually on a specific point.

The trick is being able to express it – to make ‘what’ you are writing fit in with ‘how’ you want the work to be structured.

Let’s say you’re writing a novel and you’ve got a list of cool scenes for your character. Or an idea for non-fiction. What do you do?

First off, set the scenes aside. The first steps in the journey from germ of idea to published work have little to do with the ‘what’ of the content, and a lot to do with the ‘how’.

Start by creating a log-line – the sentence that describes what you are trying to do. In non-fiction or academia it’s called the ‘thesis’ – but it’s functionally the same thing. (Academics call a document with supporting argument a ‘thesis’, but technically it is the sentence defining what they’re trying to argue).

I’ve posted many times before about the importance of having a log-line first as a start point. This is why.

The log line gives you the journey, which means you can plan out ‘how’ you are going to do it. This is the key step. Let’s say your logline reads ‘Downtrodden girl has to find strength in herself to save a kingdom and so make her dreams come true.’

Focus on the emotional side – on the character arc – for example:

1. Beginning. Introduce characters from the POV of the downtrodden girl.

2. Middle. Follow experiences of main character as she begins to grow and realise she can break free, if only she knew how. A challenge is laid down; she so wants to meet it, but is prevented by her oppressive family. She is shown how to break free by a mentor, who helps her achieve what seems to be her dream.

3. End. What appeared to be her dream is not her true dream; but because she has gained new confidence she is able to step out and seize the moment when it comes. Her character arc is complete and the story ends.

Notice how I managed to not mention fairy godmothers, wicked witches, ugly sisters, handsome princes, tin men, lions or wizards in emerald cities. The details of the plot – come later –Wizard of Oz or Cinderella, depending on choice. But that’s the point. At this over-arching structural stage, the ‘scene by scene’ details are less important.

They come later – well, next week, in fact.

Meanwhile – have you had experiences with structure? Do you start with a logline?

Copyright © Matthew Wright 2013

The Acme Instant Logline Generator

All novels need a logline, sometimes also known as a hook line – a single sentence that describes the plot and acts as a sale pitch to agents and publishers.

The form is usually “[Character name], [character description] has to [action] in order to [result].”

The result usually has an emotional content. Hard to winnow your story down to it? Try this. Begin with the logline instead. All you need, in fact, is a six-sided dice. Roll once for each variable and complete the sentence:

1. Roger Dodger the old Codger,
2. Peregrine Hyphen-Hyphen Folderol,
3. Snoot,
4. Adele,
5. Eric,
6. Heinz Dasistwirklicheinesehrdummelangeswortistesnicht von Abernatürlichistesjaabsolutichdenkeso of Sehrgutwerdeichgehenundhöreaufmeinekraftwerkalben,

1. a world-renowned horologist,
2. a rock god,
3. an up-and-coming railway enthusiast,
4. a truck driver specialising in cab-over series Macks,
5. an unemployed random-generator writer,
6. a rodent exterminator,

has to

1. win a challenging drag race
2. build a box-girder bridge with a toothpick
3. write a vampire fan-fic novel
4. learn how to sing and dance
5. cook a souffle
6. defeat the evil Thog monsters from Planet Zil

in order to

1. become the Ruler of the Universe.
2. rescue beloved from certain doom.
3. be home in time for tea.
4. get to Buckingham Palace and receive a knighthood.
5.  audition for ‘America’s Got Talent’.
6. finish up at the beginning again, only better for it.

Have fun.

Copyright © Matthew Wright 2013

Write it now, part 8: structure is everything in writing

I posted last week about the ‘inverted pyramid’ method for drawing readers into your work. One of the best tips I ever learned.

1197094932257185876johnny_automatic_books_svg_medIt introduces an important point. Structure is everything when it comes to writing.  Everything. Over the next few posts I’m going to outline some of the key ways of making that structure happen – to any scale, in whatever you’re writing.

To me, structure is one of the two key mechanical skills that let writers convey the emotion they have in mind to the reader. The other is ‘stylistic colour’, but I’ll get on to that later.

Structure applies at all levels of writing, from the structure of your sentences and paragraphs – which help you grab the reader and convey the essential emotion that is at the heart of all writing – to the over-arching structure of your entire work. In more detail, these are:

1. Sentence structure.
From a grammatical perspective, sentences need certain things in order to work, and they have to be in certain places. But beyond that, sentence structure is one of the key ways a writer defines their own style. It’s like a signature.

2.  Paragraph structure.
Beyond the immediate level of sentences we find paragraphs; it is at this wider level that the content of the material starts to get more important. Is it in the right order to convey the idea in the right way? That’s as true of non-fiction writing – which presents an argument – as it is of fiction, where the characters are unrolled for the reader across paragraphs rather than sentences.

3. Over-arching structure.
Every piece of writing, however short or long – must have an over-arching structure – the classic ‘beginning, middle and end’. There is more to it than that, of course. The over-arching structure has to lead the reader through an experience. In a novel it is the character arc, interlinked with the plot. In non-fiction it is an argument. It should be possible to write down that key structure in a sentence or two, irrespective of how long the written material is – up to and including epic novels.

I’ll be following these up in the next few posts. Meanwhile, though, what’s your take on structure? Do you break structure down in these ways? How do you make structure work for you?

Copyright © Matthew Wright 2013

 Next time: why seat-of-the-pants writing is bad for beginners. Tomorrow: Russell Crowe’s UFO,  and why it’s rubbish.

Write it now part 5: what you’re in for as a writer

In this ongoing series on the A-Z of writing, we’ve been looking so far at what writing is, what it involves, and the scope of what there is to learn.

For those who seriously want to do it, writing is also a lifetime committment. So what are you in for? Plus side – the rewards are huge. Writers who make a career of their passion write for the joy of it, and the journey can lead to surprising places. Check out the photo, for instance. That’s me, doing my ‘journalist’ thing. Did I ever think I’d do a ‘Tom Clancy’? Of course not.

But it’s also a hard road.

First off, don’t think it will make you rich.

Journalist on a submarine hunt, Exercise Fincastle, 1994.

Where can writing lead? Cool places, that’s where. This is me behind the tac rail of an RNZAF P-3K Orion, hunting submarines during Exercise Fincastle, 1994.

The world’s richest writers are mostly novelists. But for every Dan Brown equivalent, lounging with an ice-cold pina colada in the comfort of their Cessna Citation X as they descend into Majorca for another sun-drenched sojourn at their beach mansion, there are a thousand writers in grinding poverty. Their books are good, their skills top notch – but sales don’t provide a living. The method of publication makes no difference.

That’s also true of other writing – non-fiction, journalism, and so forth. Want to make a living freelancing? Maybe you can. But not, for instance, in New Zealand. I know someone who tried. He did well by local standards – but that didn’t pay the grocery bills, and after about a year, he shelved his typewriter and got a job. One in his field – he didn’t quite end up working as the icing guy in a muffin factory. But you get the picture.

Second, be prepared to work. And work hard. Writing should be a pleasure. That’s why most of us do it. But the reality of assembling the right 100,000 words - of preparing the MS for publishing, of going through the editorial processes (trawling those 100,000 words many times, chasing proof-editors gaffes) - and then promoting it is a lot of work. You have to find ways of balancing the grind so it doesn’t kill the fun.

Third, it’s a solo profession. Sure, there are online communities filled with friendly, like-minded people who offer great support. Sure, there are symposia, conferences and all the other things that writers get involved with. And writing groups abound. But at the end of the day, writing always involves sitting down – alone – and doing it. For hours, weeks, months and years. Alone. Be prepared.

Finally –  it is an endless learning curve. Learning is where innovation comes from. It’s how you hold the audience.  There is always something to learn, and it doesn’t necessarily have to be learned ‘from’ somebody. After a while, experienced writers are good enough at their profession to make their own judgement calls over self-improvement.

Did I say ‘profession’? I did, didn’t I.

Any thoughts?

Copyright © Matthew Wright 2013

Coming up: Next instalment of ‘Write it now’, more ‘Sixty second writing tips’. And posts on kindness. Watch this space.

Sixty second writing tips: changing your writing frame

You’d be surpried how the tools you write with frames the work.

Computers frame us in many ways, particularly through screen size and the way we interface with it.  A lot of writers today use Word or Scrivener – yet, no matter how flexible that is, we’re still going to be limited by what the programmers think writers need, and by the way they think writers work.

In this day and age the onus is on to get an edge – to think laterally. And one way to do that is to change your writing framework. Here are some tips:

1. Plan your writing with pen and paper (the most flexible medium I know of).

2. Compose the actual text on the computer, sure – it’s fast, convenient and necessary – but use it like a typewriter.

3. Once you’ve edited it, print the resulting file and do a final edit on paper. Sure, you have to type your correx back into the computer – but the effect here is the change of medium. Spread the pages out on the floor. You can’t do that wuith a screen – and it gives you the whole work at a glance. Does it tell you anything?

4. At any of these stages, you can also change your environment – go and write somewhere new. That’s part of the frame, too.

Do these techniques work for you?

Copyright © Matthew Wright 2013

New Year resolutions? Not for me, thanks.

Happy new year. It’s 2013 and we weren’t nobbled by Niburu the way pundits claimed. I never thought we would be.

Wright_SydneyNov2011I’m not making any New Year resolutions, though. I have a couple of reasons. One is that the date is arbitrary, even in the west, where 1 January wasn’t universal until recently. Ukraine led the way in 1362. South Holland picked it up in 1576. But until 1751, the English celebrated new year on 25 March. Other cultures have wholly different structures; Khmer New Year is on 13-14 April. So is the Tamil New Year – both marking the vernal equinox.  Here in New Zealand, the Maori New Year, Matariki, is still six months off.

In any case, I’m not convinced that resolutions actually work. We are creatures of habit; we start off with a hiss and a roar, but for me at least the effort usually runs out of steam around mid-morning on 1 January. For me, constant, incremental self-improvement is the way – certainly as a writer, where re-invention and constant improvement is one of the keys to longevity in the field.

So what’s coming up this year for me, writing-wise? I have books in press. I have contracts in hand, but Penguin and Random House are merging, putting around 90 percent of my back-list and publishing licenses, along with most of my in-print books, under one roof. That will make things interesting.

There’s also going to be blogging. Watch this space.

Do you have any plans for 2013? Resolutions? Aims? I’d love to hear from you.

Copyright © Matthew Wright 2013