Question of the Month
copyright 2000 by Alicia Rasley
Ask me anything.... about writing, that is. It's all I know.
Three new questions! There's one on conflict and one on motivation and one on contracts, of all things. Check 'em out.
I'm writing a short romance. Should I concentrate on internal or external conflict? Jeannie
uestion:
Jeannie-- As a writer and a reader, I think most books should have both. (I even divide "internal" into two types-- internal, meaning the obstacles the character must overcome within him/herself, and interactional, meaning the tensions and issues between this character and others - the lover especially-- so there are actually three conflicts.)
nswer:
I've written books with mostly internal conflict. . . and had editors politely request that I put "a bit of plot in there along with the character study". (Yeah, that stung a bit.) As I see it, the external conflict (the murder he has to solve, the student she's trying to save from the gangs) can often force the character to face an internal conflict that hasn't been recognized or addressed yet (his continuing anger at his dead father, her guilt about her own criminal past).
The external conflict also, ideally, can bring the hero and heroine together in the plot - that is, as he investigates the murder, he comes to her school and wants to take her student out for questioning, but she refuses to let him. The external conflict can cause or exacerbate the interactional conflict (he's so cynical after years trying to deal with gangs, that he scoffs at her idealistic attempts to save middle-school students with campouts and basketball games).
That is, the books that involve us emotionally, intellectually, and romantically are likely to have all three of these conflicts weaving together, each complicating the others, and the resolution of each aiding in the resolution of the others. It's a tough job, no doubt, and some books necessarily emphasize one conflict (an adventure book might be externally driven; a coming-of-age story is likely to be internally driven). But this is similar to the answer to the question, "Do you prefer character or plot books?" We ought to be striving to provide both, integrated in one story.
I'm slowly learning to use the external conflict to manifest or magnify the internal conflict. I think what I find hardest of all: In a romance, everything is doubled. You might have two external conflicts (hero's, heroine's), two internal. . . . That's a lot of conflict for a nice little love story! It's like trying to French braid your own hair. :) For more exploration of this, see my article Structuring the Story.
What about motivation coming from backstory? Any ways of individualizing that? Bob
Bob--
Consider individualizing not the motivating experience but the character's response to it. After all, few experiences are unique to any individual, but a unique individual will have a particular response that suits who he is. That's what's going to make him come alive as a three-dimensional human being, and, by the way, also make more things happen in the present than in the past. There's always the danger with backstory that you might end up with all the interesting stuff happening way back when, instead of the present time of the story. If you think, how will the actions and attitudes of this 25-year-old man be affected in the present by what happened when he was 10, you'll be putting the focus of the attention on the here-and-now.
Just keep in mind that we are affected not just by our past experiences but by our temperament, talents, values, genetics-- it's a complex mix. I think what's fun about fictional characters is we can show that, far from everyone responding lockstep knee-jerk to the same motivation, their responses will vary depending on who they are and what matters to them. That makes our plot– the working out of the choices they make and the actions they take– that much more individual.
Just think of the many different ways different people will respond to the same "past".
For example:
Here's how a whole group of Army brats might react as adults to their childhood experiences of constantly moving:
1) Mary: Sets down a tangle of undiggupable roots the moment she is liberated from her gypsy parents' control. (She's a homebody at heart, and found the constant moving around terrifying and disorienting, and has resolved never to move again.)
2)Terri: Continues roaming by joining the service herself or becoming a war correspondent or a troubleshooter or whatever. (She's perhaps become something of a crisis junkie, a risktaker, someone uncomfortable with routine.)
3) Jeri: Marries young and set down roots but feel trapped and restless. (Though she craves security, she hasn't learned to appreciate the more quiet pleasures of routine. She's got a value conflict between security and variety.)
4) Carrie: Keeps trying to set down roots, but everytime trouble threatens, pick up and move to a new place. (She wants to feel at home, but has learned only one way to cope with problems– move away from them!)
5) Berry-- Keeps roaming but secretly longs for a home. (She was the one who always loudly proclaimed that she loved moving around, because she didn't want to hurt her parents' feelings. Now her whole identity is tied up with being a wanderer, and she doesn't know who she'd be if she stayed put.)
Each woman's response is going to depend on who she is and what matters to her and what goals she has and how adaptive/reactive she is to change, among other things.
And that's where it gets interesting, when we show the chemical reaction of experience and temperament. That makes our character different from that other Army brat over there in someone else's book. :)
It also provides ample opportunity for internal conflict that affects their current actions. For example, what happens when Terri, the war correspondent, gets a great promotion to CNN Defense Department Correspondent– one that requires her to spend most of her time in Washington?
Or when Carrie starts dating a widower with kids in the local schools, family nearby, and his own un-portable business? Is she going to give him up when the itch to roam comes up?
I hear that when I get The Call from the editor, offering to buy my book, I'll be offered the "boilerplate" contract and there won't be much negotiation room for a new writer like me. If I don't have an agent, is there anything I should particularly watch out for? Sue
I think the one "boilerplate" clause that usually is extremely and directly detrimental to the author (as opposed to the ones that seldom come into play, like the libel indemnity clause) is the option clause, and that's something every author who even might get a call should be ready for. Fortunately, publishers usually have to change this clause for agented writers, and so they're not likely to argue too much as long as you offer a clear alternative.
The option clause gives this publisher the right to see your next book first. The publisher will seldom drop this clause entirely, and that's all right, but they tend to make it comprehensive for them and restrictive for you. The problems to watch out for are:
1. Type of book optioned: The publisher often tries to make this ANY book with your name on it. In that case, the clause might specify "the next manuscript by this author (including co-authored books)." That could mean that cookbook you're putting together for your church fundraiser is under the option. The publisher should NEVER get an option on any book they're unlikely to be able to publish under the same basic or better terms as this one, so try to restrict their grasp as much as possible. "The next 75,000 word mystery" is fine. "The next Intrigue-style category romance". "The next 100K word historical romance." And "authored solely by this author" would be nice, so you aren't tying up any prospective co-authors.
2. What constitutes the option manuscript: See if you can submit a proposal or a synopsis as the option rather than the entire book. You don't want to spend a whole year working on an option book and have them refuse it eventually-- get the process out of the way early, when you don't have as much time invested. "Author will submit a proposal of three chapters and a synopsis...." (I don't have the legal terminology, but generally this is just a matter of marking things out and writing in the new words.)
3. How long they have to decide. The publisher will often try to do the nasty here. I've seen option clauses that give them 1 year after the publication of the first book to decide. That can effectively tie up your career for 2-3 years after you sell the first book! You want to decide when you get to submit, which should be whenever -you're- ready to submit. And their decision to accept or reject should be made as soon as possible thereafter. So give them something like "60 days after submission of the option proposal" to decide if they want it. Don't tie it in any way to the publication of the first book.
4. The terms they can offer. Some will try to grab this for the same pittance they paid you the first time. Don't let terms be part of the option clause. Each contract should be negotiated separately.
5. Your ability to decline the offer. Theoretically you can decline any offer they make. But some publishers try to say you can't sell it elsewhere for the same or less, or that they have the right to match any offer. This sounds okay, but what if you hated the first-book experience? What if the copy editor was a butcher, the cover artist insane, the editor a Grinch, the distribution system in chaos, and your first book a fast-sinking lead weight on the market? What if no amount of money could induce you to deal with that house again?
You have the right to choose not to publish there again, and they don't have the right to declare you'll never publish again. So once they make an offer, and you refuse, that ought to be the end of it. (They haven't PAID you for this option, remember, not like in Hollywood or even on Main Street, where options cost money.) Generally you'll have to settle for something like that you have sell it for "substantially better terms" elsewhere, but that's wiggle-wordy enough to mean "a better editor is better terms!" After all, you're the one who decides what "Better terms" constitutes. It's best not to have "financial terms" in there, or they could try to match the $ and grab the book.
6. How many books they get options on. Just one. Just one. Just one. NEVER give an option on more than one book. If they want more options, they should buy more books from you and PAY you. It is NOT a compliment for them to ask for options on more books, no matter what they tell you. They're just trying to tie you up for long enough to find out what the numbers will be on your first book... meanwhile, you're 3 years down the road and haven't sold again, because you're tied up with THEM.
Give them a 60-day option on the proposal for the next 75K category romance (or whatever the first book was) manuscript... and if you never write one, so what? (I still have options on 3 types of book situations at a couple publishers... but those situations are narrow enough that I'm free to submit most any book elsewhere. :) And if you submit a proposal, and they don't get back to you in time, you're free. And if they reject it in time, you're free. And if they offer and you reject the offer, you're free.
An agent or attorney can really help here, but it's best in any case to go through the whole scenario in your head, or with the person calling about the contract (sometimes the editor, sometimes a person in the contracts dept.), and make sure it is as you-friendly as possible. They aren't paying you for this option, so they have no moral right to it at all, only a traditional right, and so the less you give them, the better.
Alicia
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