Every Other Friday -- Stephanie Queen

I've lost control of my blog. Once again, EOF is a guest blog rather than an interview. Please welcome Stephanie Queen lives in bucolic New Hampshire where writing happy, snappy romances takes most of her time. However you can also find her watching UConn football and basketball games whenever they’re on TV, and sometimes even in person. Right now, she’s busy writing her next book in the Scotland Yard Exchange Program Series. Visit her website to learn more at StephanieQueen.com or connect with Stephanie Queen on --> Twitter or Facebook.

The Osmosis Method….I’ll let you know if it works…in about a month

Have you heard? The way to publishing success is to “forget about marketing and write that next book. Product sells!” It’s the same advice I’ve heard about six-thousand-two-hundred-and-eighty-three times. Usually tacked onto the end of a blog about marketing tips.

So, naturally I feel the pressure to Write Fast! Or at least be more productive. I’m all about efficiency. I’m a do-more-with-less believer from way back. Frank Gilbreth, Jr., the efficiency expert of Cheaper By the Dozen fame is a hero of mine (only slight exaggeration). The notion of writing a book fast—actually finishing a novel inside a month—is more seductive to me than a Jimmy Thomas novel cover.

But here’s the thing, so far all I’ve done is read about it.  The amount of research I’ve done probably qualifies me for a Ph.D. on speed writing. Here’s a few key things I’ve learned and plan to employ in my soon-to-start first fast draft attempt:

Plot Preparation is key.

As in any race against time, you can’t go in without a warm-up, toned and prepared for days, weeks, months (you get the picture). This is actually one of the common themes of numerous sources on writing fast. Candace Havens, who conducts Fast Draft workshops on-line, advocates for a period of plotting before the storm of writing. Rachel Aaron, author of 2,000 to 10,000 says in her book “the most important step of writing fast is knowing what you’re writing before you write it.”

This makes sense if you think about it. If before writing any novel you would normally have a period of pre-writing, to write a novel FAST, the pre-writing stage is more important.

Scheduling Time

I bought a timer. Not only will I schedule time, I will time my writing time. After studying my writing habits and much analysis of this self-reflection, I’ve come to the conclusion that I write faster and more effectively in short sprints. Aaron recommends such an analysis of your past writing habits to optimize your writing schedule. According to Candace Havens, you should plan on 2-3 hours a day of non-stop writing in whatever intervals or time of day that works best for you. If you don’t already track your word count, when and where you write, you might want to try it to see when you have the most output and under what circumstances. 

Osmosis

This is my way of saying “getting psyched.” For someone new to the rigor of writing with superhuman speed, it takes a change in mind-set. Or so that’s my theory. Thus all the immersion into the fast writing research, drinking the Kool-Aid of the experts and talking about it incessantly to writer friends, helps me wrap my mind around the concept to make it a real thing. I need to think of writing a novel in one month as a realistic goal, not some pie-in-the-sky dream. Reading all about other people who’ve done it—and exactly how they’ve done it—is important for me to take the task seriously and to make it a reality.

Motivation

If you want it badly enough and you invest yourself in it, and there’s no law of physics between you and your goal, then you will achieve it.  That’s a quote from Stephanie Queen on writing fast.

The Hot Shots

Don't Waste Your Time with Courses: Put them to work!

I began my day by writing a sex scene. I don't write erotica, and the scene is not part of a work in progress. It's homework for an excellent course by Max Adams. (I've taken almost all of her courses, and they have provided me with amazing value as I've sought to improve my writing.)

I'm a big believer in continuing to study writing, for writers of all levels. Obviously, the right teacher in the right course can help developing writers to master the skills needed to find success. But, just as classical musicians continue to study with coaches and instructors even after they have become renowned soloists, I see a benefit in even experienced writers seeking out teachers who can introduce them to new ideas, identify weaknesses, and prod them into doing better.

Courses and workshops can provide the impetus to become more productive (meaning raising quality as well as wordcount), but this is not always the case. In fact, I see many writers of talent and ability gliding through courses as a means to avoid writing. It can become one more of those insidious distractions that Kristan Higgins calls “writerly activities.” Doing exercises, absorbing lectures, and engaging in class discussions is real work, but it doesn't mean anything unless the lessons are applied to manuscripts intended for publication. With that in mind, I'd like to suggest a few rules for those who want to keep their coursework in balance.

1. Spend as much time on your work in progress as you do on your class activities. For intense courses, this may be difficult to accomplish for any given 24 hour period. It is best to make an estimate of the length of time–3 days, 5 days, a week, a month—within which you want the times to equal out before the class begins. Then, you need to track the time the time you spend working in the class and keep your commitment to yourself.
2. On any given day, apply a lesson from the class to your work in progress. This doesn't have to be a lesson from the same day. In fact, it is generally difficult to apply to many lessons over a short period of time, and that can lead to a disorganized and fractured approach to composition. But keeping a focus on the true purpose of the course through direct activity will help you to get more value from the instruction and will help you avoid consuming more courses than you can use.
3. Get out of your comfort zone. It's good to select the course that is not directly related to your effort and that you have doubts about from time to time. Certainly, if you want to master plotting, it's good to take a course that deepens your knowledge and sharpens your skills in that area. However, if you are repeatedly taking courses on one subject, it's good to ask yourself why. It may be better to head into an area with the possibility of fresh ideas, mistakes, and failure.
4. Keep a list of key ideas from a course and make sure you try them out in your work sometime in the future. I suggest actually creating a handwritten (with full sentences), and checking off each item once you feel that you have achieved mastery in the works you're writing for publication. You may even want to put the items on the list onto specific calendar dates to remind you to put them into effect. Too often, only a few ideas from a course work their way into practice and many that might have real value are forgotten within days of the completion of the course.
5. Take a vacation from courses if they are getting in the way of your writing. Courses can be as big a distraction as video games or television or social media. Now, none of these are bad in and of themselves. In moderation all of them can enhance your work. But they can also claim too much of your time. And courses, in particular, can provide and unwarranted righteous feeling that an hour wasted watching American Pickers can't. That's what makes them dangerous.

Obviously, I don't want to discourage people from getting the real value that courses offer. (I expect to take several courses this year, and I'll be teaching fifteen courses and workshops myself.) But, the writing must always come first. Remind yourself that you are primarily a producer of art (or entertainment or content or whatever you choose to call it), not a consumer. And allocate your time and attention appropriately.

Plotting for Pantsers 5 - The confidence game

One of the most powerful scenes on broadcast television was dictated on the set of NYPD Blue by David Milch. Dennis Franz as Detective Andy Sipowicz brought the scene, a rant against God, to life on camera just minutes after it had been created. (I just read about this in The Revolution Was Televised, a book I recommend.) Pantsers, you are not alone. And some wonderful writing comes from a spontaneous flow of words.

And yet, as I indicated last time, pantsers often feel less confident than their (equally wonderful) plotting colleagues who, in theory, always know what they will be writing about. Pantsers write themselves into corners. They doubt the value of a scene, a chapter, or even a whole book. They run out of gas. They wonder if the last book they wrote is really the last book they ever will write.

There are traps that pantsers need to avoid. Looping, skimping on preparation and research, jumping to new projects when the going gets tough, and dodging emotional engagement can sap confidence and trigger paralysis. But you can also take steps to build and maintain your confidence.

Write one true sentence. This is especially useful when you seem to have painted yourself into a corner. Writing the whole scene or finding the plot point that will allow threads to come together may be impossible. Don't ask too much of yourself. Ask for one true sentence. It can be the next one in the story or it can be a question about what you need most to continue. (Yes, questions are sentences. And, chances are, your subconscious will answer the question later, in the garden or the shower or on the treadmill.)

Rediscover the fire. I hope you have adopted the practice, before you even begin a new work, of writing down ten reasons (in full sentences) why you love this idea and must write about it. If those sentences are good, they can revive your interest and reassure you that this project must be completed. If you don't have the sentences, either try to construct them now or go back to the best scene you have written (preferably in the work in progress, but it can be in another work you wrote) and reread it.

Know what drives you. Why do you need to write? Do you have a message? A person you want to communicate with? An image you have to get out of your head? A part of your life you need to understand? Find your best reason and remind yourself of if.

Understand what you do well. I'm a great one for lists, so I have written down what I have to offer as a writer. We tend to concentrate on our weaknesses, worrying about them and trying to overcome them. That is not a confidence builder. What do you do best? If you know what that is, use that gift to write another piece of your work in progress.

Create small successes. This may be the best. Success begets success. Find something small you know you can do, and do it. Then do the next thing. Don't be scared. Just scale back your ambition for a few days and get on with it.

Read something by your favorite author. The short stories of Harlan Ellison, Edgar Alan Poe, and James Joyce are the reasons why I became a writer. They thrill me by demonstrating what is possible. When I go back to them, I find the old impulse to put words on paper is revived and refreshed. Who inspires you?

All of these are positive steps you can take. And if you have a lucky hat or an affirmation that works for you, go for it. Oh, one thing to avoid - don't look for empathy from a plotter. Too many see the path they take as the only true path. Don't be bullied into following them. Instead, come to love your own twisty, turny, absurd and dangerous path.

Plotting for Pantsers 4 - Reviving conflict

The essence of a good scene, chapter, or novel is conflict. Vivid descriptions, evoking mood, and introducing a quirky character all have their places, but stories are driven by the clash of opposing forces.

A good plotter plans these out ahead of time. Often, just as a reader experiencing conflict can't wait to see what happens next, a plotter is driven to get that next scene on paper so he or she can experience the already mapped out conflict.

Pantsers may have conflicts emerge from the strong premise or from a collection of traps they built unconsciously into the story. An odd couple of characters may strike sparks every time they come in contact. And, since our lives are naturally filled with conflict, a dedication to truth and authenticity in fiction can cause conflict to bubble up.  All of these -- selecting a good premise, putting starkly different characters together, and writing honestly -- should be part of the pantser's pledge. Every time they sit down to write, these three should be already in progress, motoring away in the background.

Unfortunately, pantsers may be immersed in distractions (those vivid descriptions, moods, and quirky characters, not the temptations of Web surfing) or drawn to the weak conflicts of irritation and complaint. Both of these lead to a malaise that grinds the writing process to a halt. Realizing that you are distracted or bored is the first step. (Often, reading the last few paragraphs or pages confirms the problem. If it is painful, conflict may be lacking.) What do you do next?

• Cut and cut deeply. Work backward, removing everything that is boring you from the manuscript, and maybe a little more. (Since this will be painful, set it off in a "cuts' file. Chances are that you'll never look at it again, but it feels like less of a loss if it isn't completely killed.)
• Find a way to get interested again. I generally go back to the ten reasons I must write this story. (Everyone needs to have a ten reasons list.) I might also review my premise (usually expressed in a logline). Sometimes, I just read a passage in the WIP that I already love.
• Write in a different way. Once I get the feeling back, I go back to composing the manuscript, but I don't pick up exactly where I left off.  I usually jump to a scene further on or put in a scene I skipped (or now realize I need) earlier in the manuscript. Often, I will change the mechanics -- moving from typing to dictating or writing in longhand.

If none of this works, something else may be in play -- confidence. Plotters are annoyingly confident because they have their tasks laid out in detail each time they sit down to write. Even a pantser can and should have a prompt, created the day before, for the day's work, but ambitious works tend to make those prompts melt away. How can a pantser build or restore confidence? I'll write about that in my next entry.

Plotting for Pantsers 3 - Characters to the rescue!

My characters talk to me.  In my sleep, in the shower, and sometimes even when I am typing away. There voices are always distinctive, and certainly insistent. But they are not always helpful.

• They may fail to tell me truthfully about their backgrounds.
• They may give me the wrong reasons for what they are doing.
• They may work hard, often in devious ways, to keep me from putting obstacles in the way or making them suffer.
• They may abandon me at inopportune times.

When I was a plotter, this didn't concern me too much. I already had lists of things that were going to happen to them, I had profiles that included aspects of their childhoods and their strengths and weaknesses, and I didn't depend upon their input. Since I approached the work with confidence and a clear idea of what I would write next, the writing went forward. And, eventually, the character got back to work.

I can still go back to my old ways and mechanically develop plots and profiles when pantsing fails, but I prefer to takes steps that are more in the spirit of improvising. When I do that, there is little violence done to creativity, and I get the surprises I'm looking for. Here are some methods I use.

Interviews. I have an advantage here in that I have played journalist through most of my career. I know enough to 1) ask open questions that can't be answered with a yes or a no, and 2) to listen to the answers. Most characters are easy interviews. They already know me and are willing to talk. But sometimes I need to get them drunk first. I literally imagine bringing them to a bar, sitting through several beers with them and then springing my questions. This may take more time, but it is worth it. Note: I do not actually drink myself during these sessions.

Traps. Sometimes I purposely put my character into a stressful situation. I write down the scene in vivid detail, including all the senses, and then shove the character into it. Once they enter the nightmare, they squirm and beg and reveal themselves. The trick here is making sure it is extreme and difficult for them. Many of my characters can laugh off situations that would tear me apart. I have to find their Achille's heels.

Changing Point of View. If the character (usually the protagonist) doesn't want to talk, maybe someone else does. I recently broke through on a story by having the villain narrate the scene. He saw himself as the hero and was eager to tell his side of the story. Once I had the whole scene down from his point of view, it was easy to write it from the protagonist's perspective. (Sometimes, this exercise has had a surprising result: it has shown me that I need an additional POV throughout the story.)

At times, I also find that I need to go back an earlier scene and rework it. I hate doing that. It stops forward momentum and it risks the kind of looping that can become pathological and unproductive. When I do go back to a previous scene, I limit myself to taking a closer look at the conflict. (This is something I always need to do in rewrites anyway.) Often, I find that I have dodged something that is painful to the character (and, likely, to me). Fixing that usually gets things moving again.

Plotting for Pantsers 2 - Build your storytelling muscles

Last time, I introduced some of the benefits of being a pantser and some of the problems with writing by the seat of your pants. The freedom, creativity, surprises, imagination, and real fun that come from just letting the images form in your mind, listening to the voices of the characters, and allowing the words flow are worth all the pain, and need to be protected against overzealous drives for productivity. So my main aim here is to provide options that will not interfere with all that is good about working spontaneously.

If you are a pantser, and any of the tips in my articles don't feel right, avoid them. Sacrifice productivity before you drive away your muse. But don't let fear hold you back. Use good judgment.

The easiest way to build plotting prowess without doing any damage is to work those plotting muscles in an arena away from your work in progress. Most pantsers I know are huge consumers of stories. They read all the time and seemed to know about all the best in television and film. However, even though some can tell you about the highlights of the stories they consume, many are unable to retell the stories. And even fewer are able to immediately isolate key plot points. Plotters, on the other hand, have no problems dissecting stories (often, distressingly, in real time).

It is a simple thing to begin to pay attention to plot points and even the turns that are in scenes. It may take some time to do this automatically, but, with practice, anyone who love story can acquire the skill. Here's a step-by-step approach you may wish to try:

1. Learn the elements of plot. There are many books on plotting. Since the structure is such an essential part of Hollywood films, I recommend a book like Save the Cat, but there are many choices available. Master these plot elements intellectually, so that you could easily recite them with explanations to others.
2. Look for examples of plot analyses of popular stories. Again, film may provide the most accessible examples. Many books and websites include breakdowns and beat sheets, and these often explicitly tag the plot elements.
3. Analyze the stories that you are consuming. Write down the plot elements in full sentences and begin to keep a journal of these. Make sure that you are analyzing traditional stories with the beginning–middle–end structure. Dissect shorter works (movies, short stories) so you can quickly gain experience. If possible, discuss your work with a plotter who is familiar with the material.

Your work in plot analysis may (probably will) decrease your enjoyment of the stories you consume, especially in the short term. It will make it harder to become immersed in the stories, and you'll begin to see the strings the storyteller is pulling. It may even stories you have enjoyed to obvious to appreciate anymore.

This is part of the price you pay for your own art. Mourn and move on. Know that, if you work hard at this, you're build your plotting muscles without damaging your own work. All this knowledge will be active in the background as you compose. And it will be explicitly available when it's time to rewrite your work.

Finishing the Book – Mental Blocks

Last time, I wrote about organizational problems that get in the way of finishing your writing. Mental blocks can be another major factor. In fact, it is the one I hear the most about from other offers.

Often, they are problems, such as looping and dithering, that can occur any time in the writing process, and I’ve offered tips on dealing with these throughout this blog.  Five challenges, however, seem to be the bane of those just trying to get finished, so I’ll offer suggestions on each.

Exhaustion. It is possible to get burned out on a story, or burned out on writing. The work can be all absorbing, demanding, and lonely. Or you can just become tired of the kind of writing you are doing. There are natural rhythms to scenes and segments, and you can get out of synch. And sometimes, everything becomes too familiar. You just want that voice in your head to shut up.

The first way to avoid exhaustion is to set your expectations correctly. It is much more likely that you will get tired of a work if you believe it should already be done. Books have their own lengths and gestation periods (which, admittedly, can be modified by a publishing deadline). I write out the hours (based on past experience) expect for phases of the project, and then I add 50%.

Exhaustion also tends to afflict pantsers more than plotters because they tend to write in surges. Steady pacing, with a consistent word count, can help you avoid physical and mental exhaustion. Don’t try to sprint in a marathon.

If you already are exhausted, cut down on your daily work count and do something entirely different. I switch to nonfiction, but, from what I see with other writers, music, drawing, and other creative endeavors seem to do that most to heal and revive.

No answers. Many writers feel that they’ve run out of ideas or painted themselves into a corner. It isn’t true. Your imagination has not died. Your muse has not abandoned you. As I simple test, I ask authors to provide ideas for other writers who are stuck, and they always come in a flood.

Seeing that creativity is alive and well is often enough, but, if not, ask different questions about the story. Rephrase. Zoom in (for a finer question). Zoom out (for a broader question). List ideas on paper or say them out loud. Stand up. Walk around when you look for answers.

Despair. This is usually expressed by the question, “Why did I start this stupid story in the first place?” Well, you did. And you are into it. And you are committed. And you are a professional. The finished work may be awful. So what? Finish anyway.

Leftovers. Those who hop around to write the luscious parts should not be surprised when all they are left with are those required transition scenes, the bits where clues must be planted, and blocks of narration.

First, reconsider whether these parts are definitely needed. Often the work succeeds without them. Elmore Leonard says, “Try to leave out the part that readers tend to skip.” Maybe you did that automatically.

If that feels wrong, brainstorm how they might be made more interesting. Can you include emotional content? Surprises? Can you surprise yourself?

If neither of these help, lean on your professionalism. Set a word count goal and grind it out. As one writer delicately put it, sometimes you have to defecate masonry.

Fear of failure. Though often hidden, this may be the most important reason why books don’t get finished. A finished book can be judged. And, if it is first draft, the judgment will be harsh.

But you can’t fail. A finished book, even if it is lousy, is an achievement. It moves you further down the road as an author and an artist. It builds capability. And you never have to show it to anyone. Virtually every author I know has a completed manuscript that never will see the light of day. There is nothing wrong with that. It is not a failure.

There are other problems – literary promiscuity (the urge to take up with a new manuscript), distractions, and jealousy. I’ll go into these at another time since I need to finish this blog.

Finishing the Book (Article, Chapter, Scene)

It is a lot easier for me to get started than it is for me to get finished. Piles and files of bits and pieces testify to this. Some of the work is experimental or done before I got more methodical, but I still find that, when a work is 80-90 percent done, barriers appear. Some of these are physical (hard disk crashes, corrupt files). Some are environmental -- life events and illness. Some are creative or conceptual, such as painting myself into a corner. Most are in my control and could be considered organizational or psychological.

Yesterday's barrier was definitely an organizational problem. I had set myself the task of rethinking the structure of my current novel. This required inserting scenes and mostly complete scenes that were sitting in an auxiliary file, as well as reordering for effectiveness, tension, and stakes. This was an ambitious goal, but I was working against a timer not a word count goal or even a requirement to complete the to-do list. This usually reduces stress, but not yesterday.

The starting point didn't feel right. I had a list of scenes, in full sentences, ready for shuffling. My intent was to cut-and-past until the flow felt right. With over 30 scenes to reorder, the list looked too big. This was especially true since a few remained to be written. I stopped my timer and paced.

Moving around helps me to think. I have another work that exists as an outline of Post-Its. Was that a good option? I looked over a blank Blake Snyder Beat Sheet. Would filling that in get me going? By the time I was finished pacing, I had decided to put all the scenes onto index card. It was a gut decision that forced me to write out each scene sentence, but it worked. Something about the tactile experience of lining up, shuffling, and reshuffling those cards, made a difference for me. Scenes found new places. A few scenes were cut. Some holes were visible, and I created new cards for those.

I did one more thing. I marked each card to indicate the level of completeness. Scenes to be written got empty circles. Scenes partly written got checks. Completed scenes got Xs.

I'm on my way now, with a quick check (and a few changes) after sleeping on the new structure. I've added reminders on emotions, as well as some ideas on what might happen.  Now I'm methodically going through adding text to incomplete scenes and writing the new scenes, all in sequence. 

Usually, I dodge organizational problems by following my processes (collected in my process diary). Common organizational problems include:

• Not knowing what your next step is. When the time dedicating to writing comes up, this can freeze you in your tracks. Which project? Which scene? Compose? Fill a hole? Rewrite? Since I always have too many ideas (especially for new projects), this one was the bane of my existence. That's why I always decide what I will write the day before, not minutes before, my next writing session.
• Not having an approach for the next piece of work. As a writer, I'm always learning. I find new ways to look at my material, and this sometimes demands that I find or develop a new process. For instance, it was years before I had a file of "junk words" I could use to methodically polish my text. (And I am experimenting now with using AutoCrit Editing Wizard to help me with this job.) Right now, the biggest target I have is building a tool box for improving emotional content in my work. I have a few techniques, but I'm trying to develop more.
• Having too many options for the next step. In a way, this was what got me dithering yesterday. I knew there were other options for working on my structure. If I'd only had one technique, I would have pushed forward with it.
• Having the wrong approach or doing it out of sequence. My process diary is a graveyard of approaches that did not work well for me and ended up being rejected (or severely modified). Someone else's favorite approach may not work for you. And some approaches do not work for all material or for you whole writing career. And, at times, material that will ultimately be improved with a process, is not ready for it when you think it is. Often this is because another step was not executed correctly, but sometimes it is just a quirk driven by story, character, or circumstances. I often find jumping back to an earlier process or forward to the next process in my journal can be the answer.
• Having an approach that is not detailed enough or too ambitious. I am a big believer in divide and conquer. In particular, I found that process steps for short stories needed to be looked at more closely and better defined when I began to work on novels. And with more ambitious works, a process step may require more from me than has ever been the case. In those instances, I have had to scale back a day's work so that the step got the attention it needed.

I would have made progress if I had gone with my original plan, but I had time yesterday to reconsider and follow my gut. If I had not had that time, I would have moved forward, but not as productively. Process is a tool, but the writer's instinct is valid. As long as the instinct is not an excuse for procrastination, it can help you work more efficiently.

Psychological barriers are the other main reasons for not finishing a work. I'll discuss them in my next post.

What stops you from finishing a work?

Building Opening Sentences - Something appealing/Something appalling

Tell the audience what's going to happen - that was the advice of choreographer Jerome Robbins to Stephen Sondheim about how to open "A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum." The result was the wonderful, fun song "Comedy Tonight."

When I saw this in a bio of Robbins broadcast this weekend (and I am paraphrasing since I don't have access to the original), I couldn't help but thing of how Thackeray and other novelists of his time would begin chapters with spoilers like "In Which Miss Sharp and Miss Sedley Prepare to Open the Campaign." I've written in the past about how titles and subtitles (including "In which" beginnings) can launch writers into their drafts. It's also possible to construct first sentences (for books, chapters, and scenes) that can get the juices flowing.

Many writers freeze when the get to first sentences because there is so much pressure to set the scene, create a great hook, and introduce the character perfectly. If such a sentence comes to you, fine. If not, that means you're human. Get to work putting the story down and worry about the perfect opening sentence when you are rewriting you work. Here are five approaches:

1. Call me Ishmael. (Moby-Dick) - Write down something the character says. If you can get a character talking, he or she is likely to keep talking for a full scene. Take advantage of that.
2. It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. (Pride and Prejudice) - Start with a premise, your thesis (if you know it). Most of us had to do this is school so the words that follow, the proofs, should come easily. This approach works well if you have something to say.
3. Someone must have slandered Josef K., for one morning, without having done anything truly wrong, he was arrested. (The Trial) - Begin with the protagonist's problem. Then move on to what it means to him or her. What might be done to solve it.
4. This is the saddest story I have ever heard. (The Good Soldier) - Make a promise to the reader. Make it as big as you dare. And then try to fulfill it.
5. It was a pleasure to burn. (Fahrenheit 451) - Start with a sentence that is charged with emotion. If you have a visceral reaction to it, you can ride that emotion through the sentences that follow it. Once you establish an emotion, you can turn it, for even more fun.

Now, any of these approaches might give you exactly right sentence or one that would never work. It doesn't matter if it gets you started. Since getting started seems to be the bane of most writers, that's a good thing. You can find 100 opening sentences on infoplease.

If all of these leave you scratching your head, try answering these versions of the journalists' questions.

• When and where does the scene take place?
• Who is this scene about?
• What happened to him or her?
• How did it happen?
• Why should I (the reader) care?

Be specific and clear. And, again don't worry if you need to change your answers later on. Just get started.

Are you bedeviled about how to begin? How do you construct your opening sentences?

Every Other Friday - Marian Lanouette

Marian Lanouette was born and raised in Brooklyn, New York, and is the seventh child of ten. Unbeknown to her parents, at the age of five she started reading the "New York Daily News" stories about the murdered nurses in Chicago and the investigation. Marian followed the story every day as authorities rushed to solve the brutal crime. It had caught her attention and her imagination. To this day she stills checks her closet before going to sleep. Marian thinks it was on that day the mystery lover was created.

Marian's first book If I Fail, A Jake Carrington Mystery was released September 2012, and will be followed up in January 2013 with the second book in the series, Burn in Hell, A Jake Carrington Mystery. Each book is a mystery with romantic elements because, to quote Marian, "Life is both mysterious and romantic."

Tell me about If I Fail.
If I Fail, A Jake Carrington Mystery combines mystery with romance. The first in the series. I'm happy to report it's been in the top 400 on Amazon for police procedurals for the last five weeks.

What drove you to write If I Fail? 
Jake's story popped into my head one day and wouldn't leave until I wrote it. I had to put another story aside to get this one down on paper.

Who did you write it for?
This might sound corny, but I wrote it for Jake thinking "okay here's your story, now let me get back to my other one." He had other plans, and his story became a series.

What were your biggest obstacles?
I'd have to say learning the business of writing. I took refresher courses in grammar, POV, and characters to spruce up my writing. I also sought out professional organizations to network with other authors.

What are your productivity tips?
I write full-time and treat it like any other job. I get up, exercise, and I'm at my desk writing and editing for six hours each day. I set word goals and don't leave the desk until I achieve them. I also limit my time online -- otherwise it’s a pit that grabs a hold of you and doesn't let go.

Do you have any questions for me?
I loved the classes that you've given at the CTRWA - What tips would you give to increase ones productivity?

My attention to social media for promoting my book [has] taken a lot of time away from my writing. I try to limit it to one hour in the morning, one hour at lunch, and free for all at night, but lately it's taking me 2 hours just to answer email or respond to tweets and Facebook. (It has to be done, not complaining), just need to know how to manage the time for it all.

I strive for a minimum of 2,500 per day but know I can achieve more.

Few people would complain about 2,500 words per day, but you are far from alone in having social media as a distraction. If you are losing time from your writing, that is a real concern. The writing must come first, both in the hours working on the manuscript directly and in the hours of rest and reflection away from the manuscript.

I would worry about whatever in your brain says "It has to be done." If your first book is making you take two hours a day in responses, how many hours will you end up dedicating when you second book comes out? Fourth? Tenth? 

When I first started teaching (chemistry) I took more hours writing notes to students on their homework than I did preparing for classes. Bad mistake. I learned out to curb that fast. And the results were better for everyone. Social media is fun (and it can be a good tactic to build audience at the beginning of your career), but it is not the main show. Not everything needs an extended response. Not everything needs a response. Some things can be handled with form letters. Or do what execs do, and hire someone to take the bulk of the work for you.

I hope this helps. 

Shock Treatment for Storytellers

The further you get into a novel, the more likely that the essence of your story will hide from you. Side characters want to tell their stories. Main characters wander into dark alleys. Outlines and note seem to be written in a different language. 

Some sort of shock treatment is in order.

My first resort when this happens is to return to my List of Ten for the book. I almost always find a potent reminder of why I wanted to tell the story to begin with.  And, more often than not, I add to the list before I leave it, renewing my enthusiasm and focus.

Sometimes I interview my character or write him/her a letter. This get the voice of the character back into my head (and often the problem is shutting it up).

Recently, I was teaching my Flash Fiction course, and we got into a discussion about setting. With Flash Fiction, setting can make or break the story, and my main point was to think of places where interesting things happen. Some obvious ones are police stations, hospitals, weddings, funerals, and battlefields. But, if you think less dramatically, you can think of places and situtations where conflicts occur over mundane things. In the class, we talked about people trying to renew their drivers licenses, buying suits for teenage boys, blind dates, and so on.

Make the list long enough, and you're apt to react strongly to one of the places or situations. You'll feel that nibble of inspiration. The next step is to put someone into the place or situation who surprises the audience. We workshopped an emergency room in the class and ended up having two people arrive who had been sewn together -- arms, sides, hips, legs, and feet. The didn 't get along, and their stories on how this happened didn't match.

What we ended up with was drastic, but entertaining.

Think of how you might take this route to get to the essence of your story. What is the place or situation that will put your character into the most uncomfortable position. Can you include an element that will surprise your reader? What conflict could push it as hard as possible? Could you write this as a Flash Fiction (1000 words or less) story?

If so, your story will come back to life, and you'll have a reference point as you go forward. You also may learn more about you character and what your story will be.

NaNoWriMo Success 5 - Why So Serious?

With commitments being made and the expectations rising, I'm seeing grim looks on the faces of my fellow writers. Anything less than victory of NaNoWriMo would be a disaster.

There is a phenomenon in psychology known as “flow.” When we are in the flow state, that is when we are most creative, imaginative, and productive. We lose track of time and of ourselves. It's a good feeling.

I believe that remembering that writing is supposed to be fun is valuable. Cultivating that idea in the way we approach our work, in our responses to challenges, and in how we introduce changes to our perspectives on writing, is not just a “nice to have.” Fun and having a good attitude can help induce the flow state.

Much of our culture induces negative attitudes toward work, and writers in particular drench themselves in mythologies of suffering and hardship. A quick sampling of discussions on the loops shows complaints about contracts and editors and rejection and unsympathetic families and friends. People agonize over blocks and deadlines and manuscripts that refuse to be finished.

Such negative talk hides what a gift being able to write -- and particularly to tell stories -- is. One writer I know used to work construction. His reaction to complaining writers is laughter. Any job that doesn't force you to haul heavy objects across the mud field in the freezing rain isn't too bad, according to him. But anyone who has written an elegant phrase, or discovered a part of themselves in a character, or created a sequence of statements or events that produced strong emotion in a reader or audience knows that the absence of misery is not the main payoff from writing. Writing, at its best, humanizes the writer and the audience and adds a precious dimension to living.

This does not mean that all is well if a writer slaps a smile on his or her face. Writers never fully develop. They always have more to learn. A maxim among novelists is that the last novel does not do much to help you write the next one. We all need to discover and rediscover the elements of our craft. We need time to sharpen our tools as well as to use them.

This blog offers a number of techniques, tools, and approaches that can help increase productivity, which ultimately provides the opportunity to dedicate more time to writing:

• Finding the fun
• Using the timer
• Working with a partner
• Reading aloud
• Keeping a journal 
• Focusing on emotion
• And more

One month is long enough to build a new habit, but it's not long enough to acquire several habits. Growing and developing always takes time. So the final lesson is to give yourself the time. Be patient with yourself and don't expect everything to immediately pay off or to be mastered in a day. Take a piece of what you learn and run with it. And then return to your notes and find something else that's appealing, and see if it will fit into your writing life.

Fun will help you find flow. The joy of writing, more than the (sometimes necessary) grim determination of meeting each deadline and achieving each goal will enrich your life and lead to long-term success. So, yes, take your craft to a higher level and rediscover your commitment during NaNoWriMo. But don't forget to have a great time while you're doing it.

NaNoWriMo Success 4 - Time to Stretch and Warm Up

If you are participating in NaNoWriMo, you are about to step into a writing marathon. It would be a good idea to take the remaining days to stretch your writing muscles and warm up. Here are a few exercises to get you going.

Word count warm up - Whatever your normal word count is, it needs to average 1,667 a day to meet NaNoWriMo goals. If you normally write 200 words a day, you need to edge your output upward by 166 words each day starting tomorrow to be up to speed. Your warm up does not need to be on a work that resembles your NaNoWriMo project (although that would be good). Writing letters to people you know can work. Even automatic writing can help here. What this warm up is about is getting the feel of putting 1,667 words onto the screen each day, along with a sense of how much time you'll need to dedicate to the task.

Idea prodding - Some writers overflow with ideas. Some struggle to get them to emerge. If you are among the latter, don't expect the tap to flow just because you've turned the calendar to November. The simplest thing to try is a brainstorm list. Come up with ten (or twenty) answers to a tangible question. Without searching the Web, what gifts under US$100 might you give to a specific loved one? How would you set a trap to catch someone who is stealing your newspaper from your doorstep? How would you get onto the roof of your bank without using stairs? The first answer may be easy. The last will require you to stretch.

If you want to push yourself, put together a series of actions connected by "therefore" or "but," the South Park advice for creating causation between beats. For example: I was hungry, therefore I went to my refrigerator to find food, but my spouse had eaten everything worth eating, therefore I drove to the deli to buy a sandwich, but I'd left my wallet at home. And so on. Again, try for 10-20 instances. (For 1,667 words, you will need about 8-12 connected things happening.)

Door closing - Practice using your fortress of solitude. Build up to the time you will need to be uninterrupted each day. Build patience. Dodge distractions. Learn how to defend your fortress from needy spouses, demanding children, and garrulous friends.

Practice your ritual - Before writing, I have already had my coffee. I turn on my music. I review my task for the day. I open the file to the right place. I set my timer, and jump in. (I also have an exit ritual that includes writing down my task for the next day.) There is utility to my ritual, but it is okay to include wearing a lucky hat, chanting a mantra, lighting a candle, spinning your swivel chair around three times, or whatever else cues you to get going. If it works, do it. If you don't have a ritual, consider developing one. Habits can be powerful things.

There are other exercises you can try, based on skills you want to build up before NaNoWriMo. Have difficulty with emotion? Try some acting techniques, such as using sense memory. Uncertain about characters? Interview them as if they were guests on your talk show. If they come off as stiff, get them drunk first. Trouble with distractions? Taper them off in the remaining days. (For instance, you might whittle away at time you spend watching TV or reading Twitter posts.)

Thanks to Jennifer Fusco, who asked for exercises in her interview in this blog. Let me know if you find these useful, or let me know if you have your own exercises that help.

Bigger 13 - The Right Structure for Nonfiction

A departure today - this entry is explicitly for nonfiction (though, I hope, most others benefit nonfiction writers). I've found that choosing the right structure makes the difference between doing a good job and doing a great job that attracts a large audience. But what are the structures of nonfiction?

Most people can readily call to mind a few ways to organize nonfiction, if asked. We all know some form the essay style, with introductions, topic sentences, and closings. Arguments begin with the second strongest point and end with the most powerful. Those who worked on a school newspaper know about the inverted pyramid.

There are dozens of others, and they can add punch to your work, or make it limp and unconvincing. Here are some to consider:

• Chronology, journal, and narrative nonfiction – Tell what happened in sequence. Blogs often fit in with these. Note that narrative nonfiction often doesn’t fit strictly if the author uses flashbacks and other fiction techniques.
• Dialogue, argument, and thesis – The first is at least as old as Plato. It resembles a discussion committed to paper, but, of course, it is carefully organized to make a point. Arguments do this more directly, without using characters. A thesis usually follows a required structure that makes it more abstract.
• Epistolary style and interviews – A letter to the editor is the most obvious of these. They are purportedly written to someone other than the reader. We just get to look over the addressee's shoulder. Often, actual letters are collected and edited for broad circulation. The best interviews may resemble letters most closely when the interviewer provides comments and responds to answers. Some are more stark, with formula questions, and these may be appropriate if the interviewer does not bring special knowledge or perspectives.
• Review or comment – The subject of the discussion, another work or event, is the distinguishing feature here. That subject may be familiar, or may need to be described in a summary fashion. These works provide informed opinion. The best reviews and comments use the reference to illuminate something important. Many depend upon the voice and personality of the author to attract the reader and hold his or her attention.
• Recipe and how-to – Clear, straightforward, and step-by-step. While there may be some personality involved, it cannot distract from the purpose. Success is giving people the outcome they are looking for. If clever words lead to an inedible pie, you lose.
• Contrast – Sometimes the whole picture – especially of a complex event -- emerges best when more than one perspective is offered. Contrast is often used in morality tales, where clear choices are made and we see the consequences.
• Pyramid and hierarchy of interests – Put what is vital to know first, then the next, and so on. My investment as a reader gets diminishing returns -- by design.
• Reference and FAQ – Just the facts, organized (often alphabetically) so I can most quickly get the information I need or want. It is important that I can get all that I need regarding a topic within a single section (or, at least, get everything but what is clearly pointed to in other sections). This means there is some redundancy in these texts. They are not meant to be read from beginning to end. A dictionary may be the most obvious example.
• Theory and exercises – Think textbooks. The point is explained, and then the opportunity to check and deepen understanding is offered through questions and how-tos.
• Memoir, apology and testimony – These tend to be mostly about the writer, written in the first person. Readers read to learn about them as persons.  Think of a conversation with a good friend about how life is going. The writer may, along with sharing experience, also have a point, wish to justify him or herself, or hope to inspire.
• Observations – These should be objective and thorough. A police or post mortem report. A naturalist’s field observations.
• Case history and cautionary tales – Much of this is like a chronology, but the focus is to tell what happened and bring out the lessons. The reader will want to get enough to emulate success and avoid failure.
• Vision and sales pitch – This is forward-looking. It can be what might be for a society or a company, or simply the joys for a consumer of owning a vacuum cleaner. A premise must be stated, benefits must be detailed, and there must be a call to action.
• Parable, fable and joke – Here the readers usually knows that the work is a composite or an allegory with a definite point. In other words, connection to facts is tenuous, but the reader is in on it. While not factual, a truth is expected. The story should be easily overlaid on the real world, and it should be convincing. Urban legends fit here, but they often are so compelling that they are taken to be factual.

Much of book-length nonfiction today does not fit cleanly into any of the above categories. Writers mix in quotes, artifacts, sidebars, and more to vary the tone and break up the text. Also the impact on readers can be dialed in by changing how formal the work is and/or adding humor (ironic, satirical, biting, or gentle).  Also, the medium makes a difference. Will this be a book? An ebook? A blog? A film? A speech?

Which structure do you choose, and how do you determine the tone? Start by articulating the purpose of the nonfiction work. (I do this for every speech I write.) What does success mean for you (or you client)? Do people need to take action? Advocate? Be able to do something? Avoid or embrace a behavior? Build empathy?

Next, determine who your main audience is. I like to get down to one person, and expand in rewrites as necessary. I find that the ideal reader often has strong opinions about which structures work best. Some people prefer works that are stark and abstract, like scientific papers. Others need to get cozy with the writer (think memoir). Your ideal reader will also guide you toward specific media and preferred tone.

Length makes a difference. Parables and fables are short. Textbooks are long, but broken up into sections. Narrative nonfiction can work at any length.

Completeness of information can dictate your choice. I wanted to write a narrative nonfiction book about a historical character, but primary sources were too scarce. Similarly, arguments feel weak if they have fewer than three points to support them.

Requirements matter. A friend of mine spent two years trying to get approval for a biochemistry dissertation written as narrative nonfiction before she submitted a more standard version.

Your comfort with the form can be decisive, especially when you are on deadline. While it is admirable to develop the ability to use all of the structures, you will probably have real facility in only a few of them.

When in doubt, try more than one approach and compare the results. You may be surprised by how dramatically the impact of your content rises or falls. Imagine a parable presented as a business speech, complete with PowerPoint charts.  Or a Hollywood star’s biography presented as a scientific paper.  Or a recipe book prepared as narrative nonfiction. Any of these would either be disasters or hilarious.

NaNoWriMo Success 3 - What to do next

You have successfully prepared for NaNoWriMo, drafted your 50,000 words, and met your goals. Now what?

• Celebrate and thank people - You have plenty of reason to feel good about yourself. You've done it (and, if you kept to NaNoWriMo's rules, at a blistering pace). Reward yourself so you remember how this feels. Also, take the time to thank all those who nudged you, answered a questions, calmed your nerves, drove the kids to soccer, or missed a party so this could happen. Your mentors, writing buddies, friends, and families deserve your gratitude and a share of your success. Just be sure not to give them the impression that you are now done with writing. They'll need to support you, one way or another, from now on.
• Give it a rest - The work you just did is still humming in your head. Bad parts look good and good parts look bad. Even though you have a thousand ideas for revision (which you can jot down), don't go back and read your manuscript now. Wait a month (Stephen King says six weeks). Mark a date on your calendar to begin revisions.
• But don't lose momentum - Put your manuscript aside, but don't put aside the habits and skills you have acquired. Start something new. Keep writing every day. You don't need to keep up the frenetic pace of NaNoWriMo, but please don't give yourself a vacation. You've invested too much to waste your commitment and development as a writer.
• Consider a post mortem - Look at your experience as a project and consider what worked, what didn't, and what you might do differently in the future. As you do this, don't forget that NaNoWriMo is part stunt. Some of what you did may not become part of your day-in-day-out approach to writing.
• Document your lessons - Since you probably tried new methods and pushed or altered old ones, it is a great time to update your process journal with revisions and additions.
• Rewrite - After you have let your manuscript rest, you can start exploring and reshaping it. Don't be surprised or disappointed if it is different from what you remember. Just get on with the task of making it wonderful.
• Submit - When you manuscript is just the way you want it, share it. This may mean handing it off to trusted readers or submitting it to agents and/or editors, or self publishing.

That's it. Congratulations on finishing your book. And welcome to the world of writers.

NaNoWriMo Success 2 - Fast Drafting

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Write for the moment. In the case  of NaNoWriMo, that means recognizing that 50,000 words in a month is a stunt, not a normal practice for most novelists (probably including fulltime novelists). That’s why, as I wrote in my NaNoWriMo prep post, you need to understand ahead of time what your goals are.

Certainly one goal should be to have fun. Yes, the serious, beautiful, and successful novel Water for Elephants came out of NaNoWriMo, and I would love for one of you to have a similar achievement. The odds of that happening, however, are not great. And if you are not used to marathon writing, don’t pressure yourself to create a bestseller. Don’t expect to have a deliverable manuscript on December 1, either. Rewriting happens (and should). I'll share some thoughts for the days after NaNoWriMO in my next post.

Here are eight things to keep in mind when you hear the virtual staring gun go off on November 1:

• Set a timer - This will help to put you on task. And it will tell you when you are "finished" for the day. (Feel free to keep writing.)
• Break the ice - Get a few words down as soon as your session begins. Those blank pages are deadly.
• Work forward - Do not rewrite as you go. Rewriting is for later. Add words, build pages, create scenes, and finish chapters.
• Give yourself permission -
• To write nonsense (don't judge)
• To write poorly (it can be fixed)
• To write sideways (meaning going away from an outline, letting a character take you where she wants you to go)
• Consider experimenting - Feel free to write in ways you've never written before. Play around with the possibilities. Make notes after a session about how it feels and what you've learned.
• Don’t hurt yourself - Be willing to push yourself, but don't press to the point of pain. Give yourself more latitude, but don't get sloppy.
• Celebrate success - Every day.
• Shrug off failure - Didn't make you word count? It's one day out of thirty. See if you can understand what went wrong. And do a little more tomorrow.

You can find more suggestion on drafting your novel in past HTWF posts. Let me know if you choose to use any of them for NaNoWriMo. Among your many goals, I hope becoming a productive writer is one of them. That will come when you use the time to build good habits, master new techniques, and build your confidence.

Rewrite 7 - Fixing Dialogue, Step by Step

Most of the time, I love my dialogue as it goes onto the page. The characters come alive for me, and I can barely keep up with their chattering, and drafting is a pleasure. Occasionally, the characters get sullen, and I have to put words in their mouths. I struggle to meet my word count. Whether inspired or workmanlike, the pages never look wonderful when, after a cooling off period, I return to them for the rewrite.

I could get discouraged, but process saves me. I know from past experience that going through, step by step, I'll end up with pages that do the storytelling job. My process has changed over the years (and it continues to change). While I used to treat rewriting like an immersion experience, taking on whatever displeased me in each go-through, now I tend to isolate one concern at a time.

That discipline

• reduces confusion, 
• keeps me from missing things, and 
• helps to prevent the problem of having one repair knock everything else out of whack.

Here are the steps I use, in this order:

• Make sure something happens - Sounds simple, right? For scenes with little dialogue, this tends to occur naturally, but it is amazing how often dialogue does not move a story forward. And this is especially true if your characters are clever and charming. I do two things as a test. First, I title the scene. This forces me to think about it holistically as opposed to as a series of exchanges. Next, I add a subtitle that begins, "In which..." Anyone who has read a lot of older novels is familiar with these subtitles. "In which our heroine Beatrice steals Alexandra's locket." Beware of subtitles where a character "finds out" something or "insults" another character. Ask what finding out leads to. If she finds out her best friend has betrayed her, is she forced to flee Coventry? Ask about the results of that insult. Does Harold challenge Christopher to a duel at dawn?
• Make sure the scene fits - A great scene can be in the wrong place or in the wrong book. Look at the scene in context. If you've titled your scenes, line them up and see if the order makes sense and moves the story forward.
• Make the characters distinct 1 - Can you hear your characters voices? Is there contrast? Would you know who was who just by their perspective and choice of words?
• Check the narrative - I often short change the action, description, and reflection in the draft, so this is vital to my rewrite. It often puts me back into draft mode, forcing me to visualize the scene anew and to feel along with the characters. Once the narration is added, the pacing becomes evident and may need adjustment.
• Check the point of view - The scene looks much more complete now. Is the point of view consistent, or is there head hopping? Even more important, is the point of view character the one who has the most to lose as the scene proceeds?
• Trim the start and the stop - Most draft scenes start too early and end too late. I chop from the top first, removing any lines that are not essential. "Hellos" are deadly. When it is impossible to start the scene any later, I look at the ending. Sometimes the ending doesn't truly resolve and more must be added. But more often it dribbles on longer than necessary. Last line - cut! Next to last line - cut! Continue until the scene can't end any sooner.
• Eliminate on-the-nose - I need to write a whole piece on this. Basically, people are more interesting and reveal more character when they talk indirectly. Check out this nice ScreenwritingU article. Also, avoid at all costs and line that could be preceded by "As you know." Do not use your characters as shills to avoid your job of clear, well-placed narration.
• Check for clarity - Lots of words now. Lots of changes. Lot of opportunity for confusion.
• Make the characters distinct 2 - This is so important. Readers love to hear characters. Make sure they still are talking in their own voices.
• Clear out the throat clearing - "Um, err, well" People do talk like this. A little goes a long way. Fiction is not reality. It is enhanced. Clear out the dull stuff. Beware also of "real" dialect. I'm not gonna tell ya twice 'bout this.
• Eliminate the repeats - Yes, people repeat themselves. Yes, they echo back what the other person has said to ensure they heard properly or to change emphasis. No, you shouldn't do this (most of the time).
• Add the attributions - Make sure we know who is talking. "Said" is usually the best word.
• Read the dialogue aloud - Your ears will pick out the problems.

I'll note that this is not a recipe. I am not concerned if I drift away from the process or change the order. Since I often end up drafting new sentences, paragraphs, and scenes during rewriting, things can get crazy. But this process provides a fallback position when (as often happens) I get uncertain about what to do next. And it provides an excellent checklist to ensure that I've done the full job.

What about you? How do you approach rewriting dialogue and rewriting in general?

 

Draft 8 - Ten Tips for Getting Dialogue onto the Page

The characters we love and remember, with few exceptions, become real to us through dialogue. For many readers listening to the characters is the best part of the book -- so much so that they scan or even skip narration to get to the dialogue. The most effective dialogue moves the story forward, reveals character, and sounds distinct. It is compact, rich in subtext, and, like poetry, begs to be read out loud.

This can put a lot of pressure on the writer. How can you do all these things at once? What if the voices in your head refuse to be lyrical, on task, and engaging? What if the voices don't even show up?

Last time, I talked about preparing to write dialogue. Do that work ahead of time (and I always advocate setting things up the day before so the muse has time to get his/her act together), and your chances of having the words flow will increase. But what if they don't? Here are ten suggestions to get you going and keep you going when you have a dialogue-filled scene:

1. Depend on the rewrite - Give yourself permission to do a second rate job. All the magic of dialogue? It rarely comes through in the first draft. The good news is that it doesn't have to. You have as many chances to get it right as you want. Don't make life impossible for yourself. Have some fun.
2. Get the voices in your head - Sometimes you can't shut them up, but try to summon the voices if you don't hear them. Picture the characters. Ask a few questions out loud and have them respond out loud. Be rude to them and get under their skins.  Or lure them in. If they still don't show up, fake it. They are likely to join you after a few painful exchanges on the page that make them sound wrong.
3. Find the heart of the scene - Ideally, you already know what the characters want (or, better yet, desperately need) before you start writing, and you have some sense of why this scene is part of the overall story. If not, go ahead and work yourself into the scene with as much "Hi. How are you" and such as you need to, but watch for where a character get involved and emotional. This is the real start and gives you what you want. Then make sure the other character responds to this. As in improv, your characters need to accept what comes their way. Don't let them change the subject (or succeed in changing the subject).
4. Lean on the contrasts - The bigger the differences are between your characters, the easier it is for them to be interested in each other and come into conflict
5. Look for beats - The best dialogue changes in direction. Important information is revealed. Goals are redirected. Stakes change. A good scene has three to five of the beats. If everything is the scene is working out as expected, have a character throw a monkey wrench into it.
6. Bring it to a clear ending - Make sure, even if you have to note it down in an explicit way that won't survive rewrite, that the scene arrives somewhere. Good scenes generally answer the scene question (with the character get what she needs) with "no" or "yes, but." And, when you're drafting, don't cheat by interrupting the conversation with someone coming through the door with a gun. Finish the scene. You can always restructure it to be cut off in the rewrite.
7. Try dialogue only - Good scenes are broken up with action, body language, thoughts, and description. But these can slow you down in the drafting stage. If you suspect you can go faster by ignoring or only briefly noting these, do it. Leave the "he saids" for later.
8. Act - No part of writing is more like acting that dialogue. Do what actors do. Stand up so your body is freed. Use prompts and props to bring out the character.
9. Change your tools - If the keyboard isn't working, shift to longhand. Or dictation (my preference for dialogue).
10. Remember who's there - It is difficult to shift back and forth between different heads. But your scene may require three or more characters. That makes it all too easy for the writer to unintentionally put a character to the side for an extended period of time. He or she gets forgotten, often even in rewrites. While most scenes feature two characters, the other characters can play a vital role. They can screw things up for one or the other of the featured characters by asking a question or throwing in a fact at just the wrong time. This needs to happen "in character," of course, but make them essential to the scene.

Use these suggestions only as you need to. They are helps, not step-by-step instructions. And, though they may help you create a better first draft, the goal here is to get the words on paper. Perfecting those words is what the dialogue is about.

If any of this helps, please let me know. And, if you have your own tricks for drafting dialogue, please share them here.