Or Else – How to raise the stakes in a story

A thief escaping from the police and the stolen car hears a baby crying in the backseat. A woman applying for her dream job is fired from her current position, which she needs to keep her home. A baseball player who has to get a hit to win the game finds out his estranged son is in the stands.

Stories need stakes. And they need to be vital to the protagonist. But they also need to be important to readers–and made more important as the story progresses.

Even good writers who always get the fundamentals of goal, motivation, and conflict right, often don’t pay enough attention to stakes. From the very beginning of the story, stakes need to be high enough and universal enough in their appeal to engage the audience. While we all want to win, a story about a kid who wants to win a spelling bee is not compelling in and of itself. There has to be a downside. There have to be consequences for failure.

Sometimes, as with a survival struggle, the consequences are obvious and real to the audience. There may be opportunities to raise the stakes by, for instance, highlighting unfinished business like an apology that needs to be said, but the audience is likely to hang on to the end even without alteration of stakes because the obstacles get tougher. But this doesn't work for many stories. So here are some thoughts on ways you can raise stakes.

Now it's personal. This is tried-and-true, and you can almost set your watch to the time in a show like Law & Order where are the search for justice becomes personal because one of the characters has a building relationship with a victim or the crime becomes associated with a family member or a partner gets hurt and must be avenged.

Investment. In the Wizard of Oz when Dorothy first reaches the Emerald City and is denied entrance, she says, "But we've already come such a long way." We know what she means because we've been along for the journey. Her making this investment explicit is brilliant and precludes a search for other options.

The goal becomes more valuable. The Ark of the Covenant isn't just a prize artifact, It's a doomsday machine.

The character is more vulnerable. This is a standard for the romance genre. As the story goes on, the love interest becomes more essential to happiness and the protagonist is more exposed in terms of revealed needs. It is common for needs to go from physical to emotional to something that touches on fate, identity and the soul. Life without this person becomes unimaginable.

There are a lot of other ways to raise stakes– shifts in power, changes in what the characters value, adding a potential loss of something vital through failure to potential gains coming from success, and moving down Maslow’s Pyramid to more fundamental needs. (Adding trivial, “me too” stakes not helpful is not helpful and can dilute the story. It's important not to diminish stakes or to add new ones that are less vital than those that are already known.

One more point–all mistakes must be clear to the reader. It is good to do what Dorothy did and make them explicit. This is not a place to get artful.

Stakes and rising stakes provide one of the most effective ways to keep readers turning the pages. Get them to fret. Get them to worry. Make it excruciating. They'll love you for it.

Balance of Powers - Thoughts on building sexual tension

A friend of mine from Hollywood -- after looking at a query tied to a book series I'm working on with my wife -- suggested I watch Castle. She recommended that I write a TV pilot because our work has the potential for the kind of sustained sexual tension that's found in that popular TV series.

Now, while ideas may be the currency of science fiction and puzzles may be the currency of mysteries, sexual tension is the El Dorado of romance. What could I learn by watching this series? It turns out, the answer was pretty obvious. There is a power struggle between the two romantic leads. Both have things the other wants and both have vulnerabilities. And, most importantly, if either were to surrender to romance, the exposure in terms of prestige, employment, and self-identity would be too much. The stakes, without deep and abiding trust between the two parties, are just too high.

Spoiler alert: let me get specific about Castle. With his writing career at a crossroads, and writers block threatening, Rick Castle needs the inspiration of real crimes and enough participation in and appreciation of the real process of solving crimes to create the stories in his next series—featuring a stand-in for Detective Kate Beckett.

Detective Beckett benefits (somewhat) from Rick Castle's wealth and connections. She also is under orders by her boss (and apparently up the line) to show Castle consideration.

When each enters fully into the other person's world, there is potential for humiliation. Detective Beckett can be demeaned in front of her peers by Castle's remarks and actions. And we see that happen, so the threat is not idle. Detective Beckett makes a point to going to a book signing where she's able to show her power to knock Castle off track in his world. (And, with such a powerful hero, the writers are very clever to include his family members who are able to ground him and expose his weaknesses.)

So, both characters need each other and both characters are vulnerable in an interlocking relationship that is not optional and ongoing. It is this relationship that both ensures interactions over a long period of time, with interesting variations, and makes full commitment to romance (and sex) problematic. Any time they edge up to the line between work and love, they get reminded of how badly things could go. They feel pain.

Of course, this sort of a guide to sexual tension has uses beyond romance. Most obviously, a buddy movie has the same elements with friendship replacing love. An argument could be made as well for stories where the bond between an individual and the group or between competitors or between a hero and the villain is central to the narrative.

For me, an immediate outcome of this analysis was an understanding that both characters throughout need many opportunities to take action that matters. Their agency must be demonstrated. In addition, the stakes need to be present and clear in almost every interaction.

So, I've taken my lesson, and I hope you'll take the opportunity to watch a story that has sexual tension (or at least, tension around the friendship), and see what it has to tell you about your own work.

Pseudonym - Who are you, really?

There are lots of practical reasons for using a pen name. Alice Sheldon renamed herself James Tiptree Jr to get past a bias in SF against female writers. Paul Linebarger became Cordwainer Smith because his role in international affairs and psychological warfare might have been compromised if some people had read his novels. When Nora Roberts is not writing traditional romances, her name becomes JD Robb, and that spares her readers confusion.

All of this is valid and provides some fun for those in the know, but, often, a pseudonym is freeing. Obviously, for those who write edgy work, like erotica, the anonymity can be of value. (It can be essential for those who write both erotica and kids' books -- yes, I know these people.) But I'm looking beyond that. A pen name can allow an author to discover and explore a different part of him or herself.

• A character - Cary Grant (Archibald Leach) said, "Everyone wants to be Cary Grant. Even I want to be Cary Grant." All writers like to create characters. Why not write as one? Using a pseudonym provides the opportunity to build a complex character and to use that character as a vehicle for creating art.  
• A focus - Your name might not be appropriate to your chosen genre. Mario Puzo probably wouldn't have worked as the name of a romance writer. Could you imagine picking up a picture book written by John le Carré? Would Delilah Marvelle, a regency romance author, make sense as a writer of thrillers? The right pen name can brand an author for readers and help the writer (especially one who writes in different genres) get into role, switch perspectives, and find an appropriate voice.
• A might have been - We all have made essential decisions in our lives. Using a pen name is an invitation to try out a different life, one that has very different boundaries and strings attached.
• An alter ego - A pen name can become a springboard for exploring a dark, embarrassing, or extreme aspect of ourselves. (Or for dark people, the opposite, perhaps.) 

This last is the most intriguing because it provides permission that might otherwise be lacking. And, without the inhibitions and expectations tied to the personas and obligatory roles we have in the real world, something new -- and authentic -- might emerge. 

Precious Words - Cut, cut, cut

The way a great idea becomes a great story is through rewriting. And, ironically, the biggest obstacle to rewriting is “good” writing. The more polished the prose, the more apt the metaphor, the more memorable the line of dialogue is, the more likely the writer will sacrifice story to hold onto it unchanged.

There are, of course, exceptions. Sometimes, the muse is generous and prose pours out with almost no need for editing.  Some writers polish and shape as they go along with an uncanny sense of story direction that makes the first completed draft the last. When you get a gift from the universe, don’t turn it down. If you are what a friend of mine calls a “freak of nature” whose stories emerge whole and entire, I wish you a good life.

Most of us need to cut, mold, shape, and polish. It’s easier to do this if the words don’t get in the way. Precious chapters, scenes, phrases, and words are difficult to rework and delete. And they are almost impossible to write around and make organic with the rest of the story.

This is one of the reasons why I advocate quick drafting. It’s easier to cut a thousand words written in an hour than a thousand words written in a week of writing sessions. If you can draft a novel in 90 days, tossing chapters or even putting the whole manuscript aside is easier than doing the same with work that has taken a year or more to produce.

It is possible to get too sloppy. Automatic writing and writing that is so diffuse it means nothing when you return to it is going too far. But many people sweat over every word and phrase when close enough is good enough – perhaps best -- for a draft. 

Here’s my point:

Invest in story, not in words.

I love well-turned phrases, beautiful images, and scintillating dialogue. Like most writers, I’m an avid reader. Words delight me, and I’ll even read pieces I don’t quite understand if the sound values charm me. But people come to commercial fiction for story, so, in my own work, that’s what I’m committed to providing.

I’ve worked with and without an outline, but, for me, even when the storytelling is structured and planned, the story evolves, develops, and reveals itself in the drafting. That makes the rewriting critical. Without a willingness to make radical changes, the best story cannot be told.

Using Your Powers for Good - Writing with integrity

Writers want to attract readers. They want them to keep turning the pages and to have wonderful experiences. They want the last pages of any work to be satisfying, and often provocative. And, okay, sometimes they want to be liked, too.

Part of developing the craft of writing is developing the tools to connect with readers. This starts with understanding who the readers are and what the concepts and concerns are that are apt to make good stories for them. What characters do they want to read about? How far can you stretch reality and still be authentic? What are their expectations, and where is it okay to push the boundaries? Vocabulary, mood, genre, attention span, and pacing are all, largely, dictated by the intended reader.

Blurbs, titles, hooks and glorious language can get the readers started. Character, worldbuilding, beats, cliffhangers, dialogue, and twists and turns immerse the reader in the story and keep him or her up past their bedtimes.

Endings answer the story question and often do more by resonating with readers so effectively they often can't wait to talk to friends about the story and they seek out other works by the same author.

Everything in the tale is clear, seamless, and filled with emotion. There is nothing extraneous.

When you've mastered these powers, you have the ability to entertain and possibly educate. You may be able to do things like comfort the afflicted, influence, inform, advise, provoke, and guide. You can use your power for good in a world of wonders, but also a world of confusion, malice, ignorance, deception, fear, and anxiety.

You can also use your power recklessly, selfishly, and in support of evil. And you probably will. After all, writers are embedded in a world of confusion, malice, ignorance, deception, fear, and anxiety. If you read classic literature, you'll see that even the most faithful, brilliant, and enlightened writers were sometimes blind to the bigotry, unfairness, and falsehoods of their times. You will, with good intentions, do the same.

Don't do it on purpose. Don't use what you've learned as a writer and communicator to write propaganda (not even for the side you believe in). Don't pander to the worst and most ignorant aspects of your readers. Don't sell out.

There is honor in constructing a well-formed argument in a speech, but not in providing false context or intentional omissions that "spin" an idea. You can write an article spelling out an new idea in business, but the flaws and problems need to be noted. You can make a point of filling your novel with characters that portray the diversity of human experience, but the characters need to live and breathe, not just fill a quota.

There is a line between engaging and manipulating, and it's often difficult to define. My guide is never to violate the trust readers have in me. I must write to the limit of my skill and talent. I must tell the truth as I know it. And I must have the best interests of readers and those in the audience in mind.

Wherever you are in your writer's journey, if you keep this in mind, you'll be acting with integrity. You'll, on the whole, be using your powers for good.

Handling the Truth - Villains and the status quo

Villains wreak havoc so we tend to see them as agents of chaos. Heath Ledger's Joker even declares himself as such.

The Joker: Introduce a little anarchy. Upset the established order, and everything becomes chaos. I'm an agent of chaos. Oh, and you know the thing about chaos? It's fair! (The Dark Knight)
 
But villains are often agents of the status quo, as well. This often appears in their dialogue, which can include lines that many politicians would (and do) feel comfortable saying.

The Joker: I'm a man of my word.

The Joker: If you're good at something, never do it for free.
Hannibal Lecter: First principles, Clarice. Simplicity. Read Marcus Aurelius. Of each particular thing ask: what is it in itself? What is its nature? What does he do, this man you seek? (The Silence of the Lambs)
Nurse Ratched: The best thing we can do is go on with our daily routine. (One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest)
Bill the Butcher: This is a night for Americans! (Gangs of New York)
Bill the Butcher: A *real* native is someone who is willing to die fighting for his country. There's nothing more to it.
Bill the Butcher: Thank God. I die a true American.

They even quote scripture.

Hannibal Lecter: All good things to those who wait.
Bill the Butcher: I know your works. You are neither cold nor hot. So because you are lukewarm, I will spew you out of my mouth. 

But villains can also support a status quo that is uncomfortable, challenging, difficult to accept, and at odds with the hero's aspirations (and ours).

The Joker: You can't rely on anybody these days, you gotta do everything yourself, don't we?
The Joker: You see, madness, as you know, is like gravity. All it takes is a little push!
Bill the Butcher: Civilization is crumbling
Nurse Ratched: You know, Billy, what worries me is how your mother is going to take this.
Nurse Ratched: Mr. McMurphy, the meeting was adjourned and the vote was closed.
Hannibal Lecter: You know what you look like to me, with your good bag and your cheap shoes? You look like a rube. A well scrubbed, hustling rube with a little taste. Good nutrition's given you some length of bone, but you're not more than one generation from poor white trash, are you, Agent Starling?
The Joker: Don't talk like one of them. You're not! Even if you'd like to be. To them, you're just a freak, like me! They need you right now, but when they don't, they'll cast you out, like a leper! You see, their morals, their code, it's a bad joke. Dropped at the first sign of trouble. They're only as good as the world allows them to be.
The Joker: The only sensible way to live in this world is without rules.

These statements, which may be complete truths or have enough truth to be disturbing may be used to justify the villain. They may show that the villain is in living in the real world while most other people are maladapted because they "can't handle the truth" (Colonel Jessep, A Few Good Men).

Recognizing this can help you to create a more rounded and a more terrifying villain -- one who shifts the ground beneath readers' feet. This villain has more power, and we know he or she will not be a pushover. The hero will be tested to the limits and need to change to counter such a villain.

In addition, a villain who has roots sunk deep into the status quo and both speaks and acts based on this provides the perfect mechanism to present both the theme (although it maybe anti-theme) and the world of your story. Theme is usually stated explicitly and provides a key for the reader for a clear understanding of why the story was written.

As for worldbuilding and exposition, the villain's relationship to the status quo makes him or her one of the best resources for providing this essential information. While narrative lumps drag a story down, the statements and actions of villains that tell about the world are compelling, memorable, and  true

Darth Vader: I am your father (The Empire Strikes Back)

Tough Love - Criticism that matters

Feedback is essential for most writers. I've talked about how to receive criticism effectively and how to give positive criticism. Today, I have a few tips on how to critique a work in a way that matters.

The overall goals should be 1) to improve the work and 2) to help the writer improve. Ideally, a work is offered, sometimes tentatively or with trepidation, because the writers wants a different perspective and insights that will have positive effects. Now, admittedly, many writers are only looking for praise. Once you know this is the case, either look for opportunities for positive criticism or decline to review the work. You probably are not dealing with a serious artist, so the relationship is all that matters.

But in most cases, it's okay to find opportunities for improvement. Here's the process I use:

• Gain/maintain trust. The key components of trust are altruism and competence. The writer must believe you are putting his or her interests first and that you know what you are doing. Otherwise, why accept what you have to say?
• Find something positive to say. No matter what, the writer will need to know what he or she is doing well. This is both because it balances the critique and because (surprisingly) people often don't know. So study my positive criticism blog entry and come up with the best way to express good news.
• Determine what insight will be the most valuable. (Hint: This won't have anything to do with spelling or grammar.) Figure out what advice would make the biggest positive impact in the way the writer writes or the work at hand. I usually make a list of three. A laundry list (other than nits) is too much to absorb for almost all writers. It is beyond the scope of the request for criticism.
• Estimate what the writer is ready to hear. Occasionally, I determine that the most important feedback is something the writer cannot or will not be able to hear... yet. Sometimes, this is because of how in love they are with the work or an element (say, a character) in the story. Sometimes, it is because of pride. Sometimes, it's because of fixed views of what might be wrong. It is frustrating, a waste of time, and a violation of trust to proceed as if none of this matters and just blurt out the truth. I choose another point of criticism that can be heard or a small piece of the big criticism. Over time, with trust and experience, more opportunities to help usually open up.
• Say it in a way they can hear it. You are not explaining what is needed to yourself. You are explaining it to someone else, so you must organize, express, and explain your criticism for that person. That means the words, anecdotes, and analogies must be carefully selected to provide clarity and support for this vulnerable person. No shooting from the hip. Often, the only way to go is to have a conversation where you ask lots of questions and do a lot of listening.  

Overall, it is best to proceed with compassion and care. I have seen people criticize to show how clever they are, acting in a cruel way with the excuse that they are being "frank" or helping the writer to toughen up. I've also seen tidal waves of criticism because critics don't want to leave anything out and perhaps don't know how to be selective. There also are those who seem to assume that being asked to read a less than perfect work in progress is a personal insult which deserves a crushing response. Worst of all are those critics who actively try to drive people away because "they have no business writing" or "have no talent."

Be generous, thoughtful, and wise. Work to be the critic everyone would love to have. In this way, you're likely to get the help you need with your own work.