This is an updated version of a guest blog post I did for Edwardville last year.
I want to talk about lemons in fan fic today. Lemons are always good, right? I mean, even the not-so-great lemons are better than no lemons at all for most of us. Interestingly, this is pretty much the case in real life as well, but I'm not here to talk about real life. So, lemons in fan fic. Yeah. If you've read anything I've written in this fandom, you might already know where I stand on the subject of sex when I'm writing it. I rely very heavily on the emotion of the moment and really don't focus on the anatomical gymnastics required of the act, for several reasons, really. The first is that I'm going to assume if you're reading it, you're old enough and experienced enough to know which body parts are involved and what goes where, and the second is that when you're writing a story about two characters who are falling in love, the physical action must always take a back seat to the emotions surrounding it, because it's not hot if you just say "I love you" "Oh, I love you too!" and let them get down to business. At least, I don't think it's hot, or if it is hot, it could be so much hotter if you paid more attention to the feelings than the gymnastics.
Another thing you'll probably notice is that I work very, very hard to avoid using any of the clichés traditionally employed in lemony scenes. You will never, EVER see me write a sex scene which includes words like "core", or "slit", or any of the other crazy words people seem to like to use to describe the happy place on a female body. I'm not an apple - I don't have a core, and there are so many other words I'd personally rather have associated with what lives inside my ladybush. Hey, good sex is all about being creative, so if you're going to write a lemon, search around for different and unique ways to describe what's going on. Yes, I know that there are only so many words in the English language for the basic function, but I'm talking more about trying to marry the emotion to the action. Try not to be all "missionary" about your lemon, relying only on what others have done before in order to make the sex happen and move on with the story. This is a big moment for your characters if they're falling in love. Take a minute to think about what's going on in their heads. They're probably nervous, and a little shy, and maybe a bit insecure, and likely totally gonzo with lust, and knowing that this moment changes everything between them COMPLETELY. Great sex is a total head/heart/body festival of wonders - if one of those things isn't engaged in the process, you've got a problem.
If you've never written a sex scene before, it's intimidating as hell. It's just about as intimidating as having actual sex for the first time, and you come to it with many of the same insecurities, which is kind of funny. For many fic writers, this is kind of what it sounds like in your head when you're preparing to write your first lemon: "Will this be hot? Do I know enough about sex to make it good for the audience? What if what I think is hot is really not hot at all? I don't swing from chandeliers in my real life, so I don't know anything at all about the Tong Position or ben-wa balls or any of that other freaky crap. That stuff scares me. Do I need any of that in order to make people sweat when they read my sex scene? I should probably study up on sex a bit before I write this. God, that stuff from "The Office" or "Master of the Universe" is so unbelievably hot - I don't think I could ever write anything that scorching. Also, I'm kind of a private person when it comes to sex, and I'm embarrassed as hell to even think these words, let alone try to write them. I can't do this. Maybe I'll just borrow little bits and pieces from what other writers have done and kind of cobble that together to make my own scene. They clearly know more about this than I do. They're probably all kinds of crazy in their real lives, while my husband/partner/whatever and I have a pretty set routine that works for both of us and we've never even considered exploring the swinger's club that everyone says some people in this neighborhood have formed. Ugh."
Here's what I'm going to say to those writers: relax. Fic sex is just like real sex in that if you don't relax, you won't enjoy it. Have some fun. Think about what would totally turn you on, and then write that. If you're not comfortable using graphic imagery, that will absolutely translate in your writing, so don't even attempt it in the beginning. And again, as is the case in real life, don't expect your first time to be your best time, because this stuff takes a little practice. As long as you're going into the thing for the right reasons, as long as your characters are ready for that step, it'll be good. And they could be ready for that in the first paragraph of your first chapter, or in the last paragraph of Chapter 37. It all depends on who they are and why they're doing what they're doing. Pull the trigger when it's time - you'll know the same way you knew when you lost your virginity in real life.
You might want to avoid the issue altogether, and take the easy route by cutting directly to the morning after. Honestly, this is cheating, and you know better (even if it's canon for Twi and you think you can argue that point). If you're writing about adults in a romantic relationship, sex is invariably going to be part of that equation. You need to challenge yourself to deal with it, and work through your discomfort in order to arrive at a solution that works for you and doesn't cheat the characters or the readers. Consummation is important. It's part of the process in a romantic relationship, and skipping over it leads to a whole lot of "what the heck was that?" reviews for you. Be your characters. As I keep saying in this blog, you are the only source of oxygen they have, so really give them the emotions and sensations and thoughts they need in order to have a good time when they're finally naked with each other.
If you're not writing, and just reading what other people have written, be kind about it. This is not easy for many writers to put out there, and obviously, not everyone's idea of what smokes the brain and curls the toes is going to be your cup of tea. If you think you can do better, give it a try and stop being all "I can't believe how LAME that was" about it. You'll either flame out and get a little humble, or write a lemon so unbelievably en fuego that everyone who reads it will explode from the sheer ecstasy generated by your descriptive powers. Neither one of these two scenarios is a bad outcome as far as I'm concerned.
Once you get the hang of writing lemons in YOUR style, they're actually really fun. They are so fun that it'll be tough to kick your characters out of bed and make 'em eat, or put their clothes back on, or go to work and pretend that they are NOT spending the entire day thinking about how great it was to be horizontal (or vertical, or whatever) with each other. But do kick them out of bed and make them live a life which includes underwear and friendly, non-sexual interaction with other people. The bed will always be there and you can bring them back to it whenever you need to. If you don't incorporate the sex into a larger framework, it gets repetitive and the reader rapidly loses interest, no matter how "hot" you make it. It becomes a matter of "Ugh, he's bending her over. Again. Yawn. This time she's wearing black lace; last time, it was blue latex."
Another thing to consider is the dialogue involved in a sex scene. Do you spend all of your sexy time chatting away with your partner? Probably not, because your attention is hopefully elsewhere. Really look at the situation you've created for your characters, and who your characters ARE, when you're writing dialogue during sex. Would shy, nerdy Edward be all porny in his dialogue when he finally gets the Bella of his dreams naked? Would tough, cold businessman Edward go all mushy and "I love you I love you I love you" just because she gave it up? Unless you're writing for comic effect, lots of chitter-chatter and out-of-character dialogue during sex is just kind of distracting, and takes away from the emotional gravity of the moment. When in doubt, less is more. Character progression doesn't begin and end in the bedroom (or kitchen counter, or shower, or wherever the heck else it is people get their freak on). Sex is just one part of the big picture, unless the soundtrack to which you're writing features nothing but a wah-wah pedal.
So, have some sex. Have some good sex, and some honest sex, and some fun sex, and some meaningful sex, and some angry sex, and some dirty sex, and some sweet sex, and some "ouch, I think I sprained something vital" sex. Go for it; but while you do, try to keep in mind who you are, and who your characters are, and the other stuff you need to accomplish in your story!
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
The Plot Thickens
Evilgiraffe commented on the previous post to this blog, wondering about how to go about plotting a story. I love the name evilgiraffe, because giraffes ARE evil, even though they look at you with those enormous brown eyes and pretend that all they need to be happy are some tasty leaves. They're tall. Tall things make me nervous. Wait — we were talking about plots, and I need to put my mistrust of wildlife on the back burner for a minute, because it's not really relevant here. Or is it?
This has happened to every single one of us, I'm betting: you go to a party/family gathering/work or school function of some kind. You're standing around, minding your own business, when someone rolls up on you and starts recounting an anecdote in great detail. You try to listen to them and follow along, and when they reach the end of their tale, your internal brow gathers in a frown, and you think 'That's it? What was the point of that whole story?' And that's an example of a poorly-plotted story, right there. If the audience doesn't see the point when it's reached its conclusion, you haven't plotted well.
You don't want to be that person who tells an anecdote without a point, which means that you need to plan a coherent story arc. There are many schools of thought on how to go about this, but some basic rules apply, so let's examine those.
A story with engrossing dramatic tension needs several things: at least one character with whom the reader can identify; a catalyst for change that's presented to that character; a hurdle/impediment the character must overcome in order to change; a moment of truth in which the character triumphs over that hurdle/impediment; and the cool-off/denouement, during which the reader gets some measure of resolution.
Now, not every story arc presents itself in such a neat and orderly fashion. Some stories require several moments of truth as a bit of a learning curve for the character, or several minor crises leading up to a larger crisis. Some stories present the reader with a lead character who isn't especially sympathetic (I mean, look at Wuthering Heights, for crying out loud). Some stories offer a catalyst for change that isn't especially attractive (our hero is passed over for a promotion at work, for example, and decides to rob banks for a living because he's tired of being ignored).
So let's begin with one of the simplest and most often-used structures: divide the story into four parts, and call those parts "quarters". The first quarter of the story should be introduction and exposition. The reader meets the main protagonist, who will serve as the emotional tour guide for the story. We learn about who this character is, how and where they live, maybe what they're missing or the lesson they need to learn. Toward the end of the first quarter, we're introduced to the catalyst for change. That introduction sets up the escalating tension and increased tension in the second and third quarters of the story. Usually, there's at least one "crisis" somewhere between the second and third quarters as the story action escalates—think of that crisis as a landing on a flight of stairs. It breaks up the rising action and provides the reader with a moment to look around and figure out where they are in the story progression.
After the mid-point crisis, the action slows down a touch early in the third quarter, then starts to sharply rise again as we enter the fourth quarter and head toward the climax of the story. A brief denouement or resolution follows that climax, and you're done.
If you want to analyze this construction using one of my things, I'm game. In The Port Angeles Players, the story opens with Bella offering us an "easy in" to her life story via an internal monologue about how she comes to be in Forks. We learn that she was inexplicably dumped by Jake, and that Alice convinced her to move to Forks for a fresh start. The introduction of the catalyst for change happens right there in the first chapter when she sees Edward. It's there so early because frankly, I was lazy, and didn't bother revealing Bella's backstory in any kind of natural way—I just kind of threw it at the reader up front. I'd rewrite it, but again, lazy :-) I wanted to play with dialogue and form more than I wanted to be neat about the thing. It's no excuse. I suck, and I'm sorry.
The vehicle that my catalyst Edward drives is the play that he and Bella are involved with. So they get to know each other over the course of the play, and they get to explore the various challenges they each face when it comes to falling in love. The mid-point crisis occurs when Edward's slightly shady past is revealed to Bella. Then we sort of cruise along, and I distract you with relationship things while I introduce a potential crisis with James, which I've sort of vaguely hinted at from the second quarter onward. The James subplot blossoms in the fourth quarter, the action climaxes with the performance of the play, and then I wrap it up in three chapters of denouement and close the story with a zinger to Jake in order to complete the circle.
So, to recap:
First Quarter: Bella's backstory and how she came to be in Forks. She sees Edward. She agrees to audition for the play, where she is again confronted with Edward. Rehearsals begin, and Bella and Edward get to know each other better (chapters 1 - 8)
Second Quarter: Bella and Edward consummate their attraction and begin to develop more profound feelings for each other. Bella is honest with Edward about her history and her fears, but Edward holds back because he doesn't want Bella to think he views her the way he's viewed the women in his life thus far. (chapters 9 - 13)
Chapter 14: mid-point crisis, in which Edward's secrets are revealed
Third Quarter: Bella and Edward discuss and resolve the tension regarding his past, and their relationship progresses and matures. The James subplot begins to sneak into the narrative. (chapters 15 - 20)
Fourth Quarter: Bella meets Edward's parents. The play is staged, and the James subplot unfolds at the climax of the action. Denouement and resolution follow, and Bella has her revenge on Jake. (chapters 21 - 26).
And so that's a basic story arc. I could have wrapped this story up in about twenty chapters, but I bowed to fanfic convention and offered chapters with Edward's POV, which served to slow the pace a little, even though I tried to keep things moving along at a reasonable clip. Because TPAP is a screwball comedy, there's not a ton of heavy conflict involved. However, a reader should be able to follow a clear progression for the characters, and the plot needs to sustain forward motion even in the lightest comedy.
How do you plot your own story using a structure like this? You need to break your story down into bullet-points, as I did above. Note that story quarters often won't divide neatly, but they should come close. So if Bella is your main protagonist, maybe your story looks like this:
First quarter: Chapter 1 - 5 Introduce Bella. Tell us who she is, what she does, where she is, and what she wants. Tell us who she interacts with. Tell us a bit about her history. Create a secondary point of tension (job? school? friend? family?). Toward the end of this quarter, introduce the catalyst/main point of tension or dramatic conflict.
Second quarter: Chapter 6 - 10 Bella reacts to the catalyst. Initial discomfort gives way to curiosity, which prompts investigation and exploration. Secondary point of tension builds, prompting a confrontation of some kind. Continue to develop Bella's surroundings and explore how the catalyst affects these.
Mid-point crisis: Chapter 11 Secondary point of tension reaches climax
Third quarter: Chapter 12 - 16 Secondary point of tension resolved. Catalyst/main point of tension further explored, and tension builds as this quarter reaches the final chapter or two.
Fourth quarter: Chapter 17 - 21 Main point of tension reaches climax and is resolved. Final chapter or two provides clarity and closure, and resolves most important questions.
If you're just starting out, and the story you have in mind is a pretty straightforward one, keep it as simple as possible. It's very, very difficult to sustain compelling dramatic tension for more than ten to fifteen 5k-word chapters with only one point of conflict. So, if Bella is a shy high-school junior, and she longs for Edward, who is a popular senior, don't drag it out. Build up the tension for ten chapters, reach a single dramatic climax (get your minds out of the gutter) around chapter eleven or twelve, and then resolve the story in the final few chapters. The less room you give yourself, the less likelihood you'll cripple the dramatic tension. I'd much rather read a six-chapter story that's tightly-plotted than an eighty-chapter affair that wanders all over the place, even if the writing is so lovely that it makes me sob with pleasure. If you're serious about writing and hoping to have an original work published one day, know that tight plotting is an absolute must.
You don't have to plot out every blessed thing, but every chapter you write should serve a purpose when it comes to advancing the storyline. And by "serve a purpose", I don't mean that having Bella shop for a dress is enough to sustain an entire chapter, even if she'll wear the dress to a party at which she first meets Edward. Something needs to happen in every chapter—something significant, something that changes things for your protagonist. It can be action or a revelation, but something needs to happen in order to climb the stair to the next part of the story.
This has happened to every single one of us, I'm betting: you go to a party/family gathering/work or school function of some kind. You're standing around, minding your own business, when someone rolls up on you and starts recounting an anecdote in great detail. You try to listen to them and follow along, and when they reach the end of their tale, your internal brow gathers in a frown, and you think 'That's it? What was the point of that whole story?' And that's an example of a poorly-plotted story, right there. If the audience doesn't see the point when it's reached its conclusion, you haven't plotted well.
You don't want to be that person who tells an anecdote without a point, which means that you need to plan a coherent story arc. There are many schools of thought on how to go about this, but some basic rules apply, so let's examine those.
A story with engrossing dramatic tension needs several things: at least one character with whom the reader can identify; a catalyst for change that's presented to that character; a hurdle/impediment the character must overcome in order to change; a moment of truth in which the character triumphs over that hurdle/impediment; and the cool-off/denouement, during which the reader gets some measure of resolution.
Now, not every story arc presents itself in such a neat and orderly fashion. Some stories require several moments of truth as a bit of a learning curve for the character, or several minor crises leading up to a larger crisis. Some stories present the reader with a lead character who isn't especially sympathetic (I mean, look at Wuthering Heights, for crying out loud). Some stories offer a catalyst for change that isn't especially attractive (our hero is passed over for a promotion at work, for example, and decides to rob banks for a living because he's tired of being ignored).
So let's begin with one of the simplest and most often-used structures: divide the story into four parts, and call those parts "quarters". The first quarter of the story should be introduction and exposition. The reader meets the main protagonist, who will serve as the emotional tour guide for the story. We learn about who this character is, how and where they live, maybe what they're missing or the lesson they need to learn. Toward the end of the first quarter, we're introduced to the catalyst for change. That introduction sets up the escalating tension and increased tension in the second and third quarters of the story. Usually, there's at least one "crisis" somewhere between the second and third quarters as the story action escalates—think of that crisis as a landing on a flight of stairs. It breaks up the rising action and provides the reader with a moment to look around and figure out where they are in the story progression.
After the mid-point crisis, the action slows down a touch early in the third quarter, then starts to sharply rise again as we enter the fourth quarter and head toward the climax of the story. A brief denouement or resolution follows that climax, and you're done.
If you want to analyze this construction using one of my things, I'm game. In The Port Angeles Players, the story opens with Bella offering us an "easy in" to her life story via an internal monologue about how she comes to be in Forks. We learn that she was inexplicably dumped by Jake, and that Alice convinced her to move to Forks for a fresh start. The introduction of the catalyst for change happens right there in the first chapter when she sees Edward. It's there so early because frankly, I was lazy, and didn't bother revealing Bella's backstory in any kind of natural way—I just kind of threw it at the reader up front. I'd rewrite it, but again, lazy :-) I wanted to play with dialogue and form more than I wanted to be neat about the thing. It's no excuse. I suck, and I'm sorry.
The vehicle that my catalyst Edward drives is the play that he and Bella are involved with. So they get to know each other over the course of the play, and they get to explore the various challenges they each face when it comes to falling in love. The mid-point crisis occurs when Edward's slightly shady past is revealed to Bella. Then we sort of cruise along, and I distract you with relationship things while I introduce a potential crisis with James, which I've sort of vaguely hinted at from the second quarter onward. The James subplot blossoms in the fourth quarter, the action climaxes with the performance of the play, and then I wrap it up in three chapters of denouement and close the story with a zinger to Jake in order to complete the circle.
So, to recap:
First Quarter: Bella's backstory and how she came to be in Forks. She sees Edward. She agrees to audition for the play, where she is again confronted with Edward. Rehearsals begin, and Bella and Edward get to know each other better (chapters 1 - 8)
Second Quarter: Bella and Edward consummate their attraction and begin to develop more profound feelings for each other. Bella is honest with Edward about her history and her fears, but Edward holds back because he doesn't want Bella to think he views her the way he's viewed the women in his life thus far. (chapters 9 - 13)
Chapter 14: mid-point crisis, in which Edward's secrets are revealed
Third Quarter: Bella and Edward discuss and resolve the tension regarding his past, and their relationship progresses and matures. The James subplot begins to sneak into the narrative. (chapters 15 - 20)
Fourth Quarter: Bella meets Edward's parents. The play is staged, and the James subplot unfolds at the climax of the action. Denouement and resolution follow, and Bella has her revenge on Jake. (chapters 21 - 26).
And so that's a basic story arc. I could have wrapped this story up in about twenty chapters, but I bowed to fanfic convention and offered chapters with Edward's POV, which served to slow the pace a little, even though I tried to keep things moving along at a reasonable clip. Because TPAP is a screwball comedy, there's not a ton of heavy conflict involved. However, a reader should be able to follow a clear progression for the characters, and the plot needs to sustain forward motion even in the lightest comedy.
How do you plot your own story using a structure like this? You need to break your story down into bullet-points, as I did above. Note that story quarters often won't divide neatly, but they should come close. So if Bella is your main protagonist, maybe your story looks like this:
First quarter: Chapter 1 - 5 Introduce Bella. Tell us who she is, what she does, where she is, and what she wants. Tell us who she interacts with. Tell us a bit about her history. Create a secondary point of tension (job? school? friend? family?). Toward the end of this quarter, introduce the catalyst/main point of tension or dramatic conflict.
Second quarter: Chapter 6 - 10 Bella reacts to the catalyst. Initial discomfort gives way to curiosity, which prompts investigation and exploration. Secondary point of tension builds, prompting a confrontation of some kind. Continue to develop Bella's surroundings and explore how the catalyst affects these.
Mid-point crisis: Chapter 11 Secondary point of tension reaches climax
Third quarter: Chapter 12 - 16 Secondary point of tension resolved. Catalyst/main point of tension further explored, and tension builds as this quarter reaches the final chapter or two.
Fourth quarter: Chapter 17 - 21 Main point of tension reaches climax and is resolved. Final chapter or two provides clarity and closure, and resolves most important questions.
If you're just starting out, and the story you have in mind is a pretty straightforward one, keep it as simple as possible. It's very, very difficult to sustain compelling dramatic tension for more than ten to fifteen 5k-word chapters with only one point of conflict. So, if Bella is a shy high-school junior, and she longs for Edward, who is a popular senior, don't drag it out. Build up the tension for ten chapters, reach a single dramatic climax (get your minds out of the gutter) around chapter eleven or twelve, and then resolve the story in the final few chapters. The less room you give yourself, the less likelihood you'll cripple the dramatic tension. I'd much rather read a six-chapter story that's tightly-plotted than an eighty-chapter affair that wanders all over the place, even if the writing is so lovely that it makes me sob with pleasure. If you're serious about writing and hoping to have an original work published one day, know that tight plotting is an absolute must.
You don't have to plot out every blessed thing, but every chapter you write should serve a purpose when it comes to advancing the storyline. And by "serve a purpose", I don't mean that having Bella shop for a dress is enough to sustain an entire chapter, even if she'll wear the dress to a party at which she first meets Edward. Something needs to happen in every chapter—something significant, something that changes things for your protagonist. It can be action or a revelation, but something needs to happen in order to climb the stair to the next part of the story.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)