Let’s Take a Road Trip (and the Second Key to Great Writing)

(He likes the book so far, and but he hasn’t got to the tragic part yet.)

How’s the road trip going?  Have we arrived in Dodge City or stalled out in Pittsburg?  I’ll let you in on a secret: when I’m writing a novel, I almost always stall out around the third or fourth chapter.  Beginnings are easy—in fact, the beginning of this one was especially easy because I was struck by one of my rare moment of inspiration in the very hour I sat down to write Chapter One. 

Here’s how it happened: Part of the drama in this story would come from the natural tension of people who don’t know each other well trying to get along for two weeks in close quarters.  That’s why I wanted the kids to travel with their grandfather instead of their mom.  That meant something had to happen to Mom.  Some kind of accident—not too serious or life-threatening, but enough to knock her off her feet.  I thought of all the usual scenarios: falling off a ladder, tripping in a hole, or maybe even a minor traffic or bicycle accident.  And then it hit me!

Several years before, when I was visiting with my in-laws in southeast Missouri, I heard a great story.  Family get-togethers are an excellent source for stories, because when you’re just visiting with no particular business in mind, incidents and recollections naturally form part of the conversation.  (The next time you’re at a  dinner or picnic with extended family, hang around with the grownups for a while and notice what the conversation is about—hopefully, it’s not all about politics!) 

Anyway, on this occasion my sister-in-law told about something that happened to her sister: a hair-raising experience with a squirrel in her house.  It was a funny story, so I later wrote it down on a note card with the thought that I might be able to use it someday.  (Writers often do this.)  When I sat down to write the first chapter of the middle of somewhere, still wondering what would happen to Mrs. Sparks, that squirrel tale popped into my head.  I looked up the note card and wrote the story pretty much as my sister-in-law told it to me—only instead of just one person in the house, there are three, and one of them is a hyperactive seven-year-old.  So there were a few differences, but a lot of similarities, especially in the squirrel’s final fate.

Remember what I said about EXPERIENCE—either yours or someone else’s?  It really paid off here: not just helping me start off with a bang, but also handing me one of the best opening sentences ever.

So I was off to a great start, but after writing the first three or four chapters, I began to lose steam.  This always happens when I write a novel: once introductions are over and the “inciting incidents” (the events that get the story moving) are done, so what now?  Here’s where the second key of good writing comes in:

FOCUS

Suppose my novel about a road trip included every waking minute of the trip?  Every mile, every potty stop, every roadside attraction, whether anything significant happened there or not.  That would be excruciating! And unreadable.  You already know, whether you realize it or not, that stories don’t work that way.  What an author leaves out is just as important as what she puts in.  An author has to decide what to notice about the setting and plot and characters, and include only those elements.  A novel is a series of scenes, like a play, and each scene is tightly focused, with the action sharp and clear. 

Notice how this works in the first chapter of The Middle of Somewhere: we begin with a scene of the squirrel getting into the house, and what happens immediately after.  It’s important to the plot because Mama has to have that accident—but it also shows us something about the characters: Mama’s weariness, Gee’s excitability, Ronnie’s talent for taking charge.  We like these characters and want to know what’s going to happen to them.  Starting off a story with action that a reader can quickly grasp is a great way to get the reader on your side!  (And that’s what you need: nobody will read your story because they like you, unless it’s your mother.)

This is the very vehicle: 2004 Coachmen Freedom Class C. THAT’s getting specific!

This tells us more about her: she’s orderly, she likes to be in control, she’s working on a Plan B.  This is called exposition—nothing is happening with the plot, but the author is taking time to explain some background that readers need to know.  Whether in a novel or a short story, some exposition is always necessary, but beginning writers tend to include too much of it.  And too soon.  The information at the end of Chapter One would have been just as true if I’d put it at the beginning, but it might have killed your interest, whereas the squirrel incident woke up your interest.

At least, that was the idea.

So, how do you focus?  You have to get specific.  Ronnie doesn’t just live in a small town; she lives in

The real Big Brutus

Partly, Missouri (based on a real town, Halfway, Missouri, which is located halfway between Buffalo and Bolivar).  Her grandfather didn’t win that brand-new Coachmen RV (the actual model of which I found at a local RV show) in any old contest or poker game; he won it in a hard-body contest of the kind that a car dealership in Longview, Texas, used to sponsor every year.  Once they’re on the road, Gee’s gift (or curse) for climbing gets him in trouble when he tries to climb Big Brutus (which is out there on the plains near West Mineral, Kansas, if you want to check it out), and almost everything else that happens on the road happens at a real place. 

(And you may be getting the idea that focus and personal experience can work together beautifully.)

So as you get ready to write your story for the contest (pencil in hand, right?) think about your focus.  Don’t try to tell about the entire vacation—limit your story to one part of the vacation, such as your ride on Space Mountain or the day the family van ran out of gas in the middle of the desert. You’ll probably have to give some background information (exposition, remember?), but keep it to a minimum.  Here are some guidelines to get you started:

• What is the single incident you plan to tell?
• Write the actual events in sequence.  Then, if you’re going to make changes in what really happened, write your made-up events in sequence.
• What background information does the reader need to know in order to understand your story?
• What did you see?  What did you hear?  What did you taste, touch, or smell?
• Write one direct quote (something somebody says), either from memory or imagination.

You might want to look on my website for more tips about focus, here and here.  And don’t forget: if you’re reading along in The Middle of Somewhere and wondering how I came up with a particular scene or why I did this and not that, email me your questions at jbc@redeemedreader.com.  I’ll answer them on Friday!

Are you just joining us?  Here’s Betsy’s review of The Middle of Somewhere.  And if you’d like to participate in our “Around the World in Sixty Days” summer reading challenge, here’s the overview, the master reading list, and the first post for our first challenge book.  Don’t forget our adult/teen reading challenge–there’s still time to enter the contest to win free books!