Facebook icon Twitter icon Forward icon

Workbooks Getting Closer + Chocolate Donations Welcome

K.M. Weiland is grumpy about summer being over

We’re rolling right along on the workbooks for Outlining Your Novel and Structuring Your Novel. Both are formatted and the cover art is in. A few more proofreads, and they’ll be in your hands! I’ve had so many of you ask about the workbooks that I’m really excited for their potential to be helpful in making the principles I talk about in the books actionable and easily applicable. Stay tuned! I should have a release date for you soon.

As some of you may know, I’m not generally a big fan of winter. The cold and the dark don’t usually combine to make me the happiest of campers. I’ve learned from past experiences not to start writing a first draft in the middle of winter, since those first fifty pages are usually the toughest—and combined with the cold, I can get downright grumpy!

But it looks like I’m headed toward a first-of-the-year first draft for Wayfarer. I overdid it on my research—even though it’s the most fun I’ve ever had researching—so I’m estimating I won’t finish with the research until the end of the year. Which means: I’ll be starting my next first draft in the middle of winter. In short, I’ll be accepting any and all contributions of soothing chocolate fortification!

Happy writing!

Featured Resource: Structuring Your Novel

An understanding of proper story and scene structure will help you to not only perfectly time your story’s major events, but will also provide you with an unerring standard to use in evaluating your novel’s pacing and progression.

Structuring Your Novel will show you:

  • How to determine the best methods for unleashing your unique and personal vision for your story.
  • How to identify common structural weaknesses and flip them around into stunning strengths.
  • How to eliminate saggy middles by discovering your “centerpiece.”
  • Why you should NEVER include conflict on every page.
  • How to discover the questions you don’t want readers asking about your plot—and then how to get them to ask the right questions.

Click for more information!

Your Questions Answered: Historical Fiction

Q. What makes a historical fiction piece work? I'm working on a story set in the ancient Rome time period, but not in Rome itself. Research has been a little difficult, but what I am digging up is fascinating. This world is starting to take shape in my mind, in a fuzzy shadow way. I don’t want to drown my story with cultural details that have nothing to do with the plot, but I want my readers to feel fully “there,” not wandering about in fog, in an unfamiliar location. Could you give me some advice on making the setting of historical fiction very real to the reader?—Amber

A. Ultimately, the world of historical fiction is no different from the world in any other kind of story. Because we have to assume any kind of setting will be unfamiliar to at least some of our readers, we always have to bring it to life through a judicious mix of telling details and explanation. The thing to keep in mind with historical fiction is that the very aspect that makes it historical is the fact that it couldn’t be told in any other era. If it could be transplanted to modern-day L.A. with very few changes to either characters or plot, you know something’s wrong.

That said, I recommend you first identify what elements of your story are dictating that it must be set in Rome. Using those elements as your starting place, you can allow the story itself to share the history and the culture with readers. The best historical novels are those that are so rich in context and subtext they never need to explain too much outright. When I'm researching, I’m always on the watch for details (usually ones of everyday life) that will make the setting absolutely pop. Kitchens, bathrooms, clothing, social etiquette—that kind of thing is great. If it’s different from what we’re familiar with today, it can instantly bring a sense of exoticness to the story. Don’t be afraid of explaining things when you need to. But by all means, choose to show rather than tell whenever possible.

Contact Me

Have a writing question you’d like answered? I respond to all emails and will publish one question a month in this e-letter.

Email Me

Never Write an Inconsequential Scene Again

When you think of the important moments in a story, you probably think about the big scenes in which stuff happens. Characters are taking action—or having action taken against them. Somebody’s doing something that matters. There’s conflict; there’s nail-biting; there’s huge stakes on the line.

But what if I told you these are not the most important moments in your story?

The most important moments are always those that take place after the big scenes. Yes, you heard right. As crucial as character actions may be, they pale in comparison to the importance of character reactions. This is because character reactions are the measuring stick readers use to determine the true importance of a big scene

Consider this: Let’s say the volcano under Yellowstone erupts. That’s big, gosh darn it. So of course it’s important to your story. ’Nuff said. Especially if, say, your protagonist’s brother is missing in the disaster area. But then, let’s say, your protagonist hears the news and then just goes about his daily life as a mailman. He doesn’t do anything about his missing brother. He doesn’t even seem that concerned beyond his initial, Oh my, that’s horrible. Poor Samson.

Suddenly, readers are confused. Maybe Yellowstone blowing up wasn’t such a big deal after all. Maybe the missing brother isn’t important. Maybe we misread all the signs. Maybe the author just stuck in this seemingly “big” scene for kicks, even though it obviously isn’t going to have any impact on the story.

Every big action in your story needs to garner an equally big reaction from your characters. Otherwise the action, no matter how impressive, simply doesn’t matter. Readers will always look to your characters to gauge the importance of any scene—and if the characters aren’t reacting in appropriate measure, the readers will, at best, count that big scene as inconsequential. At worst, the jarring disharmony between their understanding of events and the characters’ response will frustrate them to the point of abandoning your book. Now just think how you’d react to that!