I announced on Facebook and Twitter this month that I’ve got a special secret project in the works. Some of you guessed I’d be starting a moose ranch or maybe giving away a one-million dollar prize. I’m sad to say neither of these are quite in the ballpark, and I still can’t give you any clues other than it’s something that’s a big fat present to all of you Wordplayers and something I think will be turn out to be an awesome resource for all of us. That’s all I can say for now, but I hope to be able to share it with you all soon!

Something I can tell you is that my webinar Outlining Your Novel: Create a Roadmap to Storytelling Success (via Writer’s Digest) is back! The 90-minute presentation will be live online on November 18th at 1 PM EST (although you can listen or re-listen anytime you want for up to a year). I'll be talking outlines, answering live questions, and critiquing participants’ outlines. You can sign up here. Hope to see you there!

In other news, we all know the pitfalls of living life largely at a desk are part and parcel of the writing life. But here are some things I’ve learned lately about avoiding back pain when you’re an author type who has to sit at a desk all day:

1. Don’t sit up straight. Find a chair that lets you lean back about 135 degrees and, if possible, put your feet up. But make sure your lower back is also properly supported. In just two days, this made a huge difference in the tension in my shoulders.

2. Google “timer.” Set it for 10 minutes. Whenever it goes off, stretch your neck forward and to each side for twenty seconds in each direction.

3. Every hour, get up and move around (I walk upstairs for a glass of water). Touch your toes and stretch your back.

Be proactive! It takes hardly any time and definitely makes a difference.

Happy writing!

The sins of a bishop. The vengeance of a monk. The secrets of a knight.

A knight—fighting in the condemned tourneys.

A monk—preaching reform and heresy.

A bishop—running from a lifetime of darkness.

Unspeakable secrets chase all three to the Crusade in the Holy Land. But when the swelling tide of vengeance sweeps through their shattered lives, questions will be asked, long-hidden sins will be faced, and the love of a woman will change everything.

Click for more information!

Q. I’ve been hearing a little bit about outlining scenes instead of chapters. How exactly do you do that and does it help much? And also most of my scenes are usually quite jumpy. I’ve got quite a few characters and it’s only really in the third act that they get together so this chapter is about these ones and the next chapter is about those ones and they’re sort of connected. How connected should scenes be? Is it okay to write with lots of POVs?—Amy Button

A. I always outline by scenes instead of chapters, simply because scenes are the integral building blocks of the story, while chapters are arbitrarily imposed divisions. Chapters often are complete scenes, but sometimes we’re going to be dividing a chapter in the middle of a scene for dramatic purposes or squeezing in several small scenes. That’s ultimately a choice that doesn’t have to be made until during or even after the first draft. So I would definitely recommend focusing on scenes within the outline. For further info on scene structure, check out my blog series “Structuring Your Story’s Scenes” or my book Structuring Your Novel.

As for “jumpy” scenes due to too many POVs, although it’s great to be able to use lots of POVs to bring that epic scope to a story, we have to be careful not to let the story get too scattered. In this post, I talk about how readers all too often enjoy one POV more than all the rest—and the result is that they’re always a little frustrated and impatient to leave that favorite POV.

I like to look at POV as a way to craft the tone of the story, more than just giving readers a lens through which to see everything. As a reader, I would much rather see limited events from one intimate POV than all the events from the perspectives of a bunch of characters, at least some of whom I probably don’t care that much about. I would encourage you to limit your POVs as much as possible. Figure out which ones are really necessary to your story and get rid of the rest. That will help a lot with your jumpy scene problem.

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

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Scary bad guys aren’t so tough to write. Just give them  homicidal tendencies with a dash of sadism. (And maybe throw in a few horrific scars, so they look the part as well.)

Or maybe not. This kind of scary bad guy might work in a slasher film. But most readers want something a little more subtle, a little more compelling, a little more surprising. This is why your antagonist’s motive is so important. No matter his actions, his motive is what transforms him into a relatable human being. It’s also what can make him serial-killer-next-door scary.

Commodus in Ridley Scott’s Gladiator is an enduringly stellar example. He’s a monster, from start to finish. But it isn’t his monstrosities that frighten us. They’re familiar. They’re expected. Rather, it’s his humanity that makes him a great and alarming antagonist.

Consider Commodus’s motive. All the poor guy wants is to be loved! Not so evil, is it? He’s a sad, neglected little boy who suffered all his life because his father never had time or affection for him. That’s not villainous; that’s pitiful.

But make that sad, resentful, love-hungry little boy ruler of the world and wielder of untold power, and—whammo!—suddenly that relatable and even laudable motive becomes a twisted weapon in the hands of a madman.

Commodus is a great antagonist, not because he’s powerful and not because he’s crazy. He’s a great antagonist because, at his core, he is entirely relatable. He wants the same thing we all want. But he has taken this good and healthy desire and twisted it out of recognition.

That, my friends, is scary. It’s also excellent writing because it took full advantage of a complex character who provokes curiosity and pity just as strongly as he does disgust and fear. Consider your antagonist’s motive? How could you strengthen—or even simplify— it to make it resonate with readers?