On Butterbeer

by Suzanne Y. Cordatos
www.suzannecordatos.blogspot.com

Quick--Name something that exists solely because a writer dreamed it up. One yummy example is Harry Potter’s favorite drink, butterbeer. On tap and wildly popular in Florida, a butterbeer can foam your lips courtesy of a JK Rowling-approved recipe. After reading a scene in the books or visiting Hogsmeade in the movies with Harry and friends, you can’t help but crave a butterbeer mustache of your own.

Does your writing contain powerful objects? Do you create symbols? Do you simply hand your characters a cool prop when convenient? People intuitively know a good thing when they read about one. Make your object important and they’ll remember it.

Consider butterbeer. A frothy, slightly fizzy, kid-friendly butterscotch drink, butterbeer is on hand to celebrate a Quidditch win or relax on a day off school. Is it a coincidence that Harry's friends often smuggle the stuff into their cozy common room? Is it an accident that the worst wintry weather coincides with pub trips? In contrast to the cold outside, the friends holding the mugs take on the warmth and comforting qualities of the drink. Who doesn't need friends, warmth and comfort? I'd guess J.K. Rowling designed butterbeer moments with great intention. 

The orphan Harry was friendless as can be before arriving at the wizard school. It is friendship—love—that ultimately gives Harry the strength he needs to defeat the villain Voldemort. Friendship is a powerful theme in the Harry Potter books, and butterbeer is a symbol of that theme. No wonder fans make the trek to Orlando to taste it!

Ordinary objects can hold great significance. A photo of a person or place your character hopes to see again. An apron once worn by a treasured grandma who knew how to cook her way into a family’s heart. The smell of a flower or a few notes of a melody remind your character of a person, place or aching need.

Create a symbol:

            Is it necessary to the scene? To the overall story?

            Are your scenes cluttered with objects? Can fewer be given a spotlight?

            Does the object represent anything else going on? Does it symbolize a theme?

            Fantastical or ordinary, is your symbol grounded in humanity? 

Characters come alive when they need to do things such as eat, drink, love, sleep, clean, communicate, travel and defend rights just like us. Your characters will leap off the written page and resonate with readers.            

Eavesdrop Your Way To Better Dialogue

by Laurie Boris

Ideally, dialogue in fiction is supposed to be a representation of how people actually speak. (Extracting the polite greetings and chit-chat and such, unless that chit-chat reveals story or character.) How better to learn the way people actually speak than to listen to them conversing with one another?

Before I get arrested as an accessory to violation of privacy, I'm not saying that you should put your ear up to walls (unless something particularly juicy is going on) or hang out outside of people's domiciles with a shotgun mic. I'm talking about a little public eavesdropping. Don't think you can pull it off without blushing, staring, bladder control issues, or otherwise giving yourself away? Try some of my favorite eavesdropping tips:

1. Observe the natives in their natural habitat. Writing a young adult novel and don't think your dialogue sounds authentic? Go to the mall. Hang out in the food court near a large group of kids. Don't act like a stalker. Just hang out. Don't look at them; it makes them clam up and, depending upon how you are dressed, makes them move away. Bring something to read, preferably something stuffy, non-electronic, and unrelated to anything teenage kids are interested in. You will essentially become invisible.

2. Become a fly on the wall while writing everything down. I keep a tiny notebook in my purse at all times. (It's an excellent habit to get into, since you don't know when inspiration or a juicy morsel will strike. However, if this occurs while driving, please pull over to the side of the road first.) But if I'm going someplace where I know I'll have a long wait, I'll bring my "real" journal. This is especially fruitful while I'm waiting to have my car serviced. I'll get a cup of coffee and make myself comfortable in their waiting area, which is usually crowded. I'll take up my journal and start writing...everything people in the area are saying. Why would anybody question me? I'm simply writing in my journal.

3. Learn the art of reading without reading. This is my favorite eavesdropper tool. If I bring a magazine or book on the train, and actually read it, I won't pick up on the conversation the two women are having behind me about a mutual friend's episiotomy. (Hey, you never know when you might need something like that in a scene.) If I focus on the white space between the lines, then unfocus my eyes, I can hear every word. It's kind of like those puzzles where if you look at them just right, you can see the chrysanthemum in the elephant's ear. Don't ask me; I couldn't see it either.

4. Know that most people are very casual about their public phone behavior. I love banks of pay phones, where they still exist. If you act like you're waiting to make a call (pace about, check your watch, jingle change in your pocket, and for heaven's sake, don't check your BlackBerry, as that's a dead giveaway), you can pick up a boatload of great authentic dialogue. Even more fun is guessing at the conversation on the other side of the phone. Use it as a writing exercise. The advent of cell phones has made one-sided eavesdropping even easier. The rule here is not to approach anyone having a cell phone conversation. That scares them off, and it's just plain rude. These opportunities are usually spontaneous. For instance, you're enjoying a double tall cappuccino at your favorite people-watching spot when Beyoncé starts warbling from the cell phone of the twenty-something sitting near you. She starts an animated and very loud discussion with her BFF about her last date with a married celebrity, a certifiable cretin who picked his teeth at the dinner table, said that Hitler was misunderstood, and ordered lasagna for her when he darned well knew she was lactose intolerant. You are under no obligation to move.

Any good eavesdropping tips you've used to improve your writing and add sparkle to your dialogue? What are some of your favorite pieces of authentic dialogue?

(Laurie Boris blogs regularly about writing, novels, and the language of popular culture at http://laurieboris.com)

Write What I KNOW? Are you KIDDING?

by Holly Jahangiri

Somewhere after, "Show, don't tell!" comes the advice to "Write what you know." It's sensible advice, but like "Show, don't tell" it offers little guidance to a novice who doesn't already understand the concept. In fact, if your first reaction to hearing "Write what you know" was to throw up your hands and say, "But I don't know anything! I'm doomed!" you're not alone.

But you'd be wrong.

"Write what you know" is just shorthand for "Pull it from somewhere deep inside you. Somewhere real, even if what you're crafting is fiction. Because fiction must be a believable lie, no matter how far-fetched the scenario. Reach in and dig around in the chambers of your heart for real emotion. Wander the mental library stacks to rifle through the memories and pick up inspiration from real events that you've observed or experienced first-hand. Steal your friends' quirks and mannerisms and do the ultimate mash-up to create characters that are familiar - but new and not likely to get you sued. Remember all that reading you did when you were a kid? You know what you liked about it, what sucked you in and kept you reading all the way to the dinner table. Use it all."

Try this:

1. Grab a piece of paper and a pen.
2. Think back to when you were in 7th grade. Jot down three memories that stand out. They don’t have to be huge events in your life, just three that come to mind when you hear “7th grade.” List them on the paper.
3. Who was your best friend that year? Write down a list of traits, quirks, mannerisms, and actions they did that made you especially like them.
4. Who was your nemesis or rival that year? Write down the traits, quirks, mannerisms, and actions that angered or frustrated you.
5. Now, flash forward – in your adult life, who is the most difficult person you have to deal with on a daily basis? What makes them difficult or challenging? What do you LIKE about them?

Next, write a story:

The year is 7th grade. The protagonist, from whose point of view you’ll write the story, is the challenging adult you named above (5). Give this person a new name, and regress them to the age of twelve. What makes them tick? Strive to understand them and to see their hidden potential, but use it in the raw form it might have taken when they were twelve. Take the best friend you listed (3) and make them the “inspirational teacher” – the one adult who makes a difference in your protagonist’s life. The antagonists of your story are your nemesis’ and rivals (4) – but make a real effort to give them depth – don’t let them be “evil” caricatures of themselves. Give them credible motives and feelings drawn from what you NOW know of human nature – secrets your protagonist has yet to figure out. Use the events of your own 7th grade year (2) as plot points – how do your characters react? How do they grow and change (or not) as a result of these events and their outcomes? Flesh it out with details drawn from memory and imagination.

Do you see, now, that “Write what you know” doesn’t require a degree in physics, or a background in medieval history? You can research the details if you can read – and if you write, then you know how to read. So now, add a little challenge: Pick your worst subject in 7th grade and research it in sufficient detail to write and describe a simple 7th grade lecture on it. Make that a scene in your story, using either your “inspirational teacher” or another teacher character created just for this scene.

When you’re done, you should understand “Write what you know.” Maybe you could even write a story about an aspiring writer learning to draw from the inner well of what he or she knows.