Telling a Good Story Takes Preparation

My father often said, “Preparation is everything.” He was a custom men’s tailor who each night prepared the next day’s work and each morning made sure all was in order. Preparation gave him a sense of what was needed before the need arose. Some writers are equally fastidious in planning their work; others are pantsers, flying by the seat of their pants. In reality, all of us are both, and that’s important in storytelling. But, first, a bit about preparation.

There’s more than one way to prepare to write. Some writers have rituals that help them diffuse the nervous energy that often attends a writing effort. Nobel laureate Ernest Hemingway often ended his writing time before finishing a scene so that he would know where to start the next day. When he was stuck for a way to begin a day’s work, he often went back and edited the prior day’s effort.

One definition of preparation is the action or process of making something ready, or getting ready for an event or undertaking. And writing is certainly an undertaking. To help us begin, we can ask questions of the work and of ourselves as writers. The following queries are most helpful for developing scenes:

• Clarity: What aspects of the scene need clarity, whether due to imprecise prose or an incomplete rendering of the scene’s real purpose in the story? There’s nothing wrong with leaving something, or even a lot, to the reader’s imagination, as long as it’s intentional and not due to the writer’s oversight.
• Dialogue: What part of the dialogue should be overt or spoken aloud, and what should be part of the characters’ interiority? Rendering part of a dialogue as what’s going on within the character gives the character and scene layers and subtext, and shares something with the reader that the other characters may not yet know.
• Questions: What questions arise from the scene that need to be addressed, whether in the scene or later in the story? If the missing information should be filled in later, we can make a note to ourselves. Whether we fill in the gaps now or later on, we should decide how to present the information, for example, by a person or another medium, such as a news report.
• Repetition: What recurrences appear in the scene? This query relates to whether the redundancy is helpful, as in for emphasis, or is a case of the writer saying the same thing more than once with no rationale for the duplication.
• Revelations: How should a flash of insight, an epiphany or a revelation be disclosed? Sometimes straightforward is best—through a direct narrative statement. Other times the revelation of something new and important can be enhanced by putting it in the mouth of a character we wouldn’t expect to deliver the insight. Still other times the insight can come from within the character, for example, through a trigger, an aspect of setting, a memory or a lesson learned. One way to decide is to match the importance of the revelation to the extent of the surprise, and to consider whether the character needs to own the moment or whether it’s better coming from someone or something else.
• Tightening: Where does the scene need to be edited? More words don’t necessarily equal better writing. Sometimes they obscure rather than clarify a point.
• Viewpoint: Have I considered the scene from the viewpoint of each character in it, including the setting? Doing so gives a scene balance and texture.

We ask these and other questions to find out what’s needed before it becomes clear to the reader but missed by us. Think of telling a story as inviting friends to share a meal on a special occasion. No matter what form the gathering takes—informal, buffet or sit-down dinner—it’s best to prepare the food and venue in advance. This engenders trust from our guests and gives us a chance to spend time with them. That’s what readers look for in a story—a place to go where a satisfying experience awaits.

References

• If you haven’t seen the film Genius, on the friendship and writing relationship between editor par excellence Max Perkins and author Thomas Wolfe, it’s definitely worth seeing.
• If you haven’t read Look Homeward, Angel, Wolfe’s masterwork, it’s worth reading or rereading for the sheer experience of the prose.

Happy writing!

Adele Annesi’s SPD bestselling novel is What She Takes Away (Bordighera Press, 2023). She co-authored Now What? The Creative Writer's Guide to Success After the MFA and was managing editor of Southern Literary Review. Her MFA in creative writing is from Fairfield University, and her long-running blog for writers is Word for Words. Her podcast is Adele Annesi on Writing.

Keep Me in Suspense, Please!

Some years ago I was working as a marketing communications manager for a small IT company when the handwriting was on the wall for a merger and layoffs. This happened around the time I wanted to switch gears and go into writing. (I had no idea then that the next step along my career path would be to work for Scholastic during their Harry Potter heyday.)

While crafting an exit strategy and career transition, I read writing magazines cover to cover and decided I should attend a writing conference. I chose Wesleyan Writers Conference because it was nearby and because of their stellar offerings. When I was accepted, conference manager Anne Greene wrote on the acceptance letter, “I hope you can attend.” Never underestimate what a kind word can do for a struggling writer. I took encouragement and set off.

That year one of Wesleyan’s workshop leaders was acclaimed novelist Madison Smart Bell, now an agent with Ayesha Pande and the author of Narrative Design, a delightfully complex book on story structure. One of Bell’s first questions was, “Do you think suspense is necessary in storytelling?” Bell posited the question to a group of people interested in the craft and art of literary fiction, so his question initially met with silence. But the unspoken answer was that suspense was more of a ploy writers used to buoy a story that didn’t have much else going for it. Over the ensuing days, Bell proved that suspense is essential in all good writing.

However much we want to avoid being on tenterhooks in real life, we like it in stories. It’s safer there. But suspense is important for another reason, one that relates to how we define the word. The dictionary definition is “a feeling of excited or anxious uncertainty about what may happen”. For storytelling, we could also say that suspense is the intentional withholding and revealing of key elements—information, an event, a change in a character—to create a richer, more gratifying story that is elevated by the very technique we might otherwise relegate to lesser works.

Although we might agree that suspense is necessary to story, we don’t always know how to achieve suspense that works effectively. To use this craft element well, we can ask these questions: 

• Who in our story will do the work of revealing and withholding?
• What form will the reveal and concealment take?
• Where in the story should we hold back, and where should we reveal?
• When in a scene do we withhold and reveal?
• Why is the revelation being withheld or shown?
• How much do we reveal and withhold?

While suspense doesn’t equal surprise, one outcome of effective suspense is surprise. A great example appears in Career of Evil, an upmarket crime fiction novel by J. K. Rowling, writing under the pen name Robert Galbraith. We might figure out who done it or even why before the story ends, but there’s still a surprise at the close. Here’s how the writer used suspense in this instance:

• Who: The main character and perpetrator share the reveal, which further solidifies the main character’s reputation as a private investigator.
• What: The perpetrator appears as a reliable character who is anything but.
• Where: The writer showed the perpetrator early on but in disguise.
• When: The ultimate reveal is at the very end of the novel.
• Why the revelation is withheld or shown: In this case, the writer both showed the person and kept them hidden. Not even the person closest to the perpetrator had any idea who the individual really was.
• How much information is given: Just enough information is provided for the reveal to make sense and not make the reader feel cheated, as when a character comes out of nowhere to claim responsibility. 

Leave it to a writer of such consummate skill as Rowling to provide a contemporary example of suspense. And did you notice that I hinted early on at the person I would use as the example without saying so? It’s always good to practice what one posits.

Tip: Effective suspense takes practice. Create a short scene between two people, one with a secret, one who suspects there’s a secret but isn’t sure what it is or who knows it. Use the above questions to render the scene more than one way before deciding how to present it.

Happy writing!

Adele Annesi’s SPD bestselling novel is What She Takes Away (Bordighera Press, 2023). She also coauthored Now What? The Creative Writer's Guide to Success After the MFA and was managing editor of Southern Literary Review. Adele received her MFA in creative writing from Fairfield University. Her long-running blog for writers is Word for Words. Her podcast is Adele Annesi on Writing.

How to Prepare for Publication and Improve Your Writing

I recently did a seminar on how to prepare a project for publication in today’s volatile climate that offered the unexpected bonus of helping writers improve their skills.

No matter what we write or how long we’ve been writing, it’s hard to get into someone else’s head while we’re crafting and completing a project. But as we begin the submission process, we can get into the mindset of the industry professionals who will consider our work and improve our writing at the same time.

Here’s an overview of what publishing professionals look for in our writing:

• Agents seek fresh concepts and the ability to articulate those concepts—in our unique voice. They also look for a polished, fully realized project with enough scope to be full-length. And they require the ability to follow submission guidelines, which will help us, too.
• Editors have the same criteria as agents. They also seek projects that complement but don’t duplicate their current projects.
• Publishers have the same criteria as agents and editors, but they also look for writers whose works can build an audience and carry the promise of more to come.
• Marketers seek writers with staying power but also crave high-concept works. This doesn’t mean the work is superficial, only that it can be presented in a clear, concise and impactful way.

So how can writers improve their writing as they research and work with each category of industry professional?

When querying agents, don’t assume your final version is your final version. While following the submission guidelines, study what the agent is asking for. Loglines, queries, synopses, chapter outlines and marketing proposals are genres in themselves, so treat each item with the same care as you would your manuscript. And don’t send anything without first sending it to yourself. Instead of submitting your materials to all your first-tier agents (or other professionals, if you’re going directly to a publisher) in the first round, stagger your submissions and study the responses. If you don’t receive any, review your materials. In today’s publishing climate, a lack of responses doesn’t necessarily mean you’ve done something wrong, only that you’ll likely find ways to improve the quality of what you’re sending.

Consider researching editors who work with your type of project. Find out which writers they work with and what their projects are. Select one that is similar to yours and see where yours differs. This can help you hone that difference to make your project stand out. While doing so, see how the differentiator impacts the project as a whole.

Despite industry volatility, publishers still seek writers with longtail promise. No publisher wants to invest time, energy and finances developing an author only to lose them after the first book. If this sounds like the onboarding phase of starting a new job, it is. Consider what seeds you can plant in your current work that might bear fruit as a sequel or series.

The high concept stories many marketers crave don’t have to be superficial and can use the same techniques as filmmakers, regardless of genre. Here are the seven key elements for fiction and nonfiction, respectively:

1. Characters / people
2. Conflict / challenges
3. Dialogue / conversations or interviews
4. Plot / events
5. Scenes / situations
6. Theme / topic
7. World-building / location

Additional techniques you can use to prepare your project and hone your writing include beta readers, critique groups, editors, events with a critique element, excerpts, mentors, readings, time and distance. Regardless of what project you’re working on or which publishing route you choose, there’s still no second chance to make a first impression so let’s make that first impression a good one.

If you’d like the full handout from the Page to Publication seminar, including industry resources, or a PDF of the book club study guide of my bestselling novel What She Takes Away (Bordighera Press, 2023), on the warp and weft of artistry, ambition and family in bella Italia, email Word for Words. 

For more on writing, check out my podcast Adele Annesi on Writing.

The Advantages of Indie

A couple of weeks ago I attended the Ridgefield Independent Film Festival (RIFF), now in its ninth consecutive year. I’m a community curator, or screener, for the festival, but this was my first year attending the full event, where it was a delight to meet film afficionados, actors and filmmakers. One particular highlight was the filmmakers’ panel, on the perks and pitfalls of independent filmmaking. As it turns out, these intrepid creatives have a lot in common with writers working with independent presses.

As you might guess, or know firsthand, independent publishing has its disadvantages, including the marketing and distribution of authors’ books. These stark realities became even more evident when on March 28 Small Press Distribution, one of the last remaining independent book distributors in the US, suddenly announced its closure. Thankfully, organizations like the Community of Literary Magazines and Presses stepped in to help independent presses (and authors) get the information they needed to help fill the void left by SPD.

To hear our RIFF filmmakers tell it, they face similar issues. Obstacles range from raising money to securing production staff and equipment, to finding venues, locations and the right actors to play the parts. And all of this is happening while most filmmakers are also writing, directing and producing their own original material. If the challenges of independent filmmaking sound familiar, they should. Writers working with independent publishers face similar obstacles, including marketing their work and getting (and keeping) it before the public. Indie filmmakers face these hurdles, too, underscoring the importance of film festivals like RIFF and book festivals like those of the Connecticut Authors and Publishers Association.

So why do indie creatives still put themselves through such wringers?

In the case of indie authors, some have tried the traditional route and either found no room for their work or found the terms set by traditional publishing too stringent. But now, given today’s publishing climate, more authors are making the indie route their first choice. (If you haven’t seen the Oscar-nominated film American Fiction, I’d suggest it.) Indie authors feel they have the talent, stories and entrepreneurial spirit needed to face such efforts. Moreover, they like the freedom of working with independent publishers, who often have the same mindset.

Of all the benefits of an independent route, RIFF filmmakers cited storytelling as the main reason why they feel indie works best. They have stories they believe should be told and feel that, in the end (and the beginning), they’re the best ones to tell those stories. The flip side of the indie coin is that these filmmakers also like collaboration. They enjoy working with editors, sound experts and other industry professionals, because each of these people brings their unique expertise to the table to help shape the filmmakers’ vision for their projects. In essence, indie artists like creative control and have the independent spirit needed to make the most of being in the driver’s seat.

Of course, this isn’t true of everyone in the arts. Many writers, for example, still prefer literary agents to provide a liaison with publishers, help with contracts and help with shaping their projects. And many authors enjoy the prestige of having an agent and a traditional publishing house. But one advantage of today’s often chaotic publishing industry is that authors can decide to change direction, from traditional to indie to hybrid to self-publishing. These choices and their timing no longer depend solely on what works best for the agent or publisher, but also on what works best for the author at that particular stage of their life and vocation.

All things considered, whether for film or publishing, a little independence can go a long way.

For more on the Ridgefield Independent Film Festival, click on RIFF. For more on the closure of Small Press Distribution, click on Publishers Weekly. For more on the Connecticut Writers and Publishers Association, click on CAPA.

Happy writing!

Write Poetry to Stretch Your Creativity

Novelist and short story writer Connie Keller talks about how shifting gears and headspace toward writing poetry expands the writer’s creative muscles and broadens the mind.

Q. As a novelist and short story writer, how have you worked with poetry?
My favorite poetry focuses on images. On seeing something common in a new way. For me, poetry restores the wonder in an object or person I’ve taken for granted. In my work, I use poetic images to deepen the emotion of my writing. Specifically, I use metaphor and simile to add pathos to an object or a situation that could easily be overlooked. Poetic images become a way to show, not tell.

Q. What was the impetus for switching gears in writing this poem?
I’d finished writing a novel and taken a two-month break. But I still felt burned out. A friend who is a poet told me about winter garden poetry. While winter garden poetry was new to me, bringing poetry into the public view was not. The city of Winston-Salem, where I live, began a Poetry in Plain Sight program in 2013 where poetry is displayed in public places. Streets, businesses, even the sides of buses—and I love seeing literary art there.

We often see sculpture in public places, but written art is rarely on view, and you only find it in books and journals. But there’s a movement to put poetry in public spaces, and in the case of a winter garden, poetry is encased in ice and put along a garden walkway where passersby can see it. On a larger scale, the Library of Congress has paired with the National Parks Service to bring famous American poetry into seven of our National Parks.

Q. What was the inspiration for your poem?
Several winters ago, I was taking a walk next to the woods and the bare tree limbs crisscrossing the sky caught my attention. It was as if the sky had turned the branches into lace. I fell in love with that image and planned to use the image in my novel. But I never found a place for it. When I sat down to work on a poem, I remembered the image.

Q. How is writing poetry similar to or different from writing fiction?
I write upmarket fiction, which gives me the opportunity to use words in beautiful ways. But poetry gave me an opportunity to explore an image deeply. Like looking into the facets of a jewel.

Q. What other projects are you working on?
I recently finished a novel, and it’s with my literary agent. I’m pondering another poem. And I’m taking notes on a new novel, which means I’m exploring the characters, the setting, and the plot. From that, I sketch scenes.

Q. What else would you like writers and readers to know?
If it has been a long time since you wrote a poem, or maybe you’ve never written a poem—try it. If it seems too intimidating or new, it might be helpful to have limits. For example, write a poem about an image you’ve had in your head for a while. Or, go on a walk and write a poem about something you saw on your walk. Or, find a literary journal that has a themed issue, and write a poem based on that theme. Remember, you’re writing the poem for the joy of it—to stretch the creative muscles in your mind.

Novelist and short story writer Connie Keller is represented by Chris Bucci of Aevitas Creative Management and graduated Phi Beta Kappa with a BA in English from the University of California. Her background includes a variety of experience, from cytogenetic technician to subject indexer to Latin teacher. Connie lives in the Piedmont of North Carolina with her husband and wages a losing war against the deer who always find a way to eat her flowers and vegetables. For more on Connie, visit her Merry Heart blog.

Never the Same Place—Or Person—Twice"

Recently, I was listening to Saturday Cinema, with radio host Lynne Warfel. In advance of the Oscars, Warfel was featuring academy-award winning films and scores, including The Way We Were, a 1973 film starring Robert Redford and Barbara Streisand as two very different people who share time together. Listening to the theme song and reflecting on the poignancy of the music and film, I was reminded of Marcel Proust’s 1900s novel A la Recherche du Temps Perdu, which literally means in search of times lost. All of us return to places we’ve been and people we’ve known, often in search of the past, and many of us write about characters who, in real time or via flashback, are returning for the same reason. How can writers make the most of a scene or story that features a return?

Most of us like returning to places we’ve enjoyed and people we’ve enjoyed being with. Sometimes we go back because we have to. Since the same is true of our characters, here are questions to consider when writing of a return:

• What or who is the person returning to and why?
• Are they looking forward to the reunion? Why or why not?
• Once they arrive, what are their first impressions? What are these based on?
• How will their impressions evolve as time goes by and reality sets in?
• What about the place or person is different or the same and why?
• What’s different about your character and why?
• Do others in the story realize this? How and why?
• What are the effects of these realizations on the characters and overall story?
• How will the return change the character and others in the work?
• What was the character hoping to find?
• Did they find it? Why or why not?
• What are the disappointments in the return?
• What are the benefits and surprises?

If you’re having trouble envisioning the differences in the place or people between then and now, put the people in a scene together, either in an iconic setting or one that’s off the beaten path. Also give them time alone to realize what is different, and why and how this effects everyone’s lives.

To add spice, consider disruptors that would reveal who these people are today and how the place has changed. For example, if you visit Italy, you’re likely to encounter a transit strike—rail, taxi or both. What happens to your main character then? What do they reveal about themselves as they handle the unexpected?

Situations like this also reveal the character to the character. For example, your main character may take a schedule disruption in stride now, but when the person they’re waiting for is late to dinner, they may unravel, wondering why the person is late and what this says about their relationship. How does the character respond when they realize they’re not as cool under this sort of pressure as they once were?

On some level, we know we can’t go back and find the same person or place we left. Yet, returning yields discoveries about the place and the people, and when faced with the effects of time and change, our characters may respond in ways we don’t expect. Instead of censoring them, let the scene play out, and see where it takes you. Times and people past may be lost in one sense, but we can discover a trove of treasures by searching for them all the same.

Try Before You Trust: To All Gentlewomen and Other Maids in Love - Historical Fiction by Constance Briones

Try Before You Trust: To All Gentlewomen and Other Maids in Love (Historium Press, 2023), by Constance Briones, is an insightful work of historical fiction that captures the best of the genre. Here is an interview with the author on her writing journey with this novel.

What made you choose this particular topic?
I discovered the protagonist of my novel, Isabella Whitney, while researching my Master’s thesis on literacy and women in England during the sixteenth century. Whitney is credited as the first English woman believed to have written original secular poetry for publication in the mid-sixteenth century. I admired her gusty character. She dared to write poems exploring love relations between men and women at a time when religious translations were the only acceptable writing endeavor for women.

Whitney was in her late teens when her first volume of poetry concerning men-women relations was published. The Copy of a Letter (1567), with its adjoining poem, The Admonition of the Author to all young Gentlewomen and all other maids being in Love, were love poems written in the personae of a jilted lover. Whitney presented an unconventional woman’s perspective of how unfairly men treat women in love, which played a role in the debates on women’s nature in the sixteenth century. Her choice to defy the conventions of her day, both in her thinking and actions, impressed me. And I couldn’t help but think she would make a most engaging literary heroine. Another primary consideration for going the fiction route rather than writing a biography is the scant information about Whitney’s life, leading me to tell the story of her journey from maidservant to unemployed domestic to her early success as a poet through historical fiction.

What were your greatest writing challenges and why?
Getting as close as I could to historically authentic language and striking a balance between including too much history or too little history in the story.

How did you address these?
My story takes place in Elizabethan England, so I realized early on that I couldn’t write dialogue as if I were Shakespeare, fearing it would turn people off. So, to promote a better understanding of dialogue, I opted for authenticity, rather than absolute accuracy, to give the reader a taste of the historical language of the period. If I wasn’t sure about a word or a phrase, I used the Merriam-Webster dictionary, which has a word history section. I also read historical fiction by well-known authors such as Allison Weir and Philippa Gregory, who frequently write stories set in 16th-century England.

Since I taught history and am more comfortable with nonfiction writing, my biggest fear has been that my novel would begin to read more like a history book than a story. I followed the advice given to me: to use a combination of narrative exposition, dialogue, and internal thought to convey historical background. And to include it only when it felt pertinent to the story.

What did you enjoy most about writing the novel and why?
I enjoyed building scenes where the reader sees and hears what’s happening, like watching a movie. It was an engaging endeavor to consider the actions and dialogue of my characters in pivotal scenes, contemplating what I would have them do and say that would reveal their true character.

What other projects do you have planned?
I’m researching a possible second historical fiction novel based on the early life of Sarah and Angelina Grimke, the only Southern white women ever to become leading abolitionists. It has long fascinated me that these two sisters from a wealthy family in South Carolina united to oppose the institution of slavery, which was the economic backbone of the South.

What else would you like to add for readers and writers to know?
As a writer edging toward the goal of publication, I found a beta reader service very helpful. The History Quill in London offers a beta readers service, which gave me feedback on my manuscript from a team of real historical fiction readers I didn’t know. The History Quill handpicked the readers based on a questionnaire I completed. The feedback I received was detailed, honest, and very insightful. I appreciate that The History Quill carefully vets their beta readers and ensures that they are a good fit for the story, which means the feedback is of good quality.

Additionally, I had to develop patience in querying agents. Many didn’t respond and said upfront not to expect a response if they were not interested, while others responded quickly with a standard rejection letter. Then, after weeks and even months of waiting, when I least expected it, a few took the time to craft a personal response. I appreciated those who gave praise and encouragement to continue writing. Seeing a small wave of humanity within the money-driven objective of the publishing world made me feel encouraged.

Constance Briones has a Master's in Woman's History and seeks to highlight little-known stories of women in history. She is a contributing writer to Historical Times magazine, and when not writing lends her time as an educational docent for her town's historical society. She lives in Connecticut with her husband and sibling Maine coon cats, Thor and Percy. For more, visit Try Before You Trust: To All Gentlewomen and Other Maids in Love.

The Best Stories Are Yours: Experience and Autofiction

Writers are often asked, “Where do you get your ideas?” Answers to the question vary, but one common response is—experience.

Memoirists and fiction writers have a lot in common. Besides the fact that most writers now work in both genres, we share a foundation best described by memoirist Vivian Gornick in The Situation and the Story. “Every work of literature has both a situation and a story. The situation is the context or circumstance … the story is the emotional experience that preoccupies the writer: the insight, the wisdom, the thing one has come to say [about the circumstance].”

No fiction genre captures this better than autofiction.

Short for autobiographical fiction, autofiction draws a lot from the writer’s life, especially critical events, turning points, discoveries and lessons. But since autofiction writers aren’t replicating our entire life to create the story, we have more in common with memoirists than autobiographers. We have situations to explore, and we usually have a lot to say about them.

Here are three key features of autofiction:

• Names: The names in our stories may be real, including the name of the protagonist.
• Parallels: There are key similarities between the writer’s life and that of the protagonist. The protagonist may even be a writer, and the story may explore the role of writing in the character’s (writer’s) life.
• Uncertainty: In a genre that already blurs reality, there’s an organic tension over what’s real and what isn’t. This engages the reader in thinking deeply about the work and the protagonist’s (writer’s) life.

Here are three examples of autofiction and why the authors chose this genre:

• On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous (2019): This work by Ocean Vuong is a letter from a son to a mother that discloses a family history rooted in Vietnam; the story serves as a window into aspects of the son’s life his mother never knew. Normally, our parents (mothers especially, in some cultures) tell us our family history and secrets. This work reverses that tradition.
• Every Day Is for the Thief (2015): This bestselling first novel, in diaristic form, by acclaimed Nigerian-American Teju Cole, depicts a young man’s journey to Nigeria to discover his roots. Discovering one’s heritage often generates epiphany, as we suddenly recognize ourselves, for better or worse.
• A Death in the Family (2013): One of The Guardian's 100 Best Books of the 21st Century, this novel series by Norwegian writer Karl Ove Knausgaard examines childhood, family and grief. Even without knowing the details of the stories, the order of the trilogy is telling.

If you’re interested in mining your life to develop a work of fiction, try the dreamstorming technique described in From Where You Dream, by Robert Olen Butler. Here is Butler's general principle:

• Go to your writing space, and give yourself time to remember, to watch yourself move through your life. The journey doesn’t have to be linear or chronological.
• As you recall your life, note critical events, turning points, discoveries and lessons, and why they might figure into your story.

In each case, there is a situation and a corresponding emotional experience that makes the situation memorable, even worth writing about. These are the insights, the wisdom, the thing the writer has come to say about that event. Only you can tell that story.

Resources:

• Elements of Fiction, by Walter Mosley: How to master essential fiction elements.
• From Where You Dream, by Robert Olen Butler: How to use dreamstorming to reveal story and develop scenes.
• Steering the Craft, by Ursula Le Guin: A craft guide to sailing the sea of story.
• The Elements of Story, by Francis Flaherty: Nonfiction techniques that work for fiction.
• The Situation and the Story, by Vivian Gornick: How to compose and explore the events of life.